


Bowser Is Sick

by CarrieMaxwell



Category: Let's Play (Webcomic)
Genre: Anticipation, Awkward, Being Protective, Biting, Bonding, Carried to bed, Confession, Confrontation, Cuddling, DDR, Dancing, Dogsitting, Double Date, Dramatic Reveal, Drinking, Exhaustion, F/M, Face Slapping, Fingering, Fooling Around, Gentleman, Getting to Know Each Other, Hot bath, Insults, Kissing, Lecture, Licking, Makeover, Making Out, Manicure, Nail Polish, New Lovers, New Relationship, Nibbling, Orgasm, Overhearing Sex, Pool & Billiards, Pre-date jitters, Second Base, Serious Conversation, Sexual Tension, Sharing Feelings, Shy, Sick dog, Suicide Attempt, Sweet Dreams, Talking About the Past, Touching, Tucked In, Veterinary Clinic, Yelling, Yoga, another argument, arcade games, argument, bad day, battle of wills, being a good neighbor, being a playboy, blurted out, carried in, carrying up the stairs, concerned, deep conversation, dressed down, dressed to match, drunks, expensive bill, facial mask, fear of needles, feeling like a third wheel, felt up, fight, flirtation, getting rough, girls dancing together, gussied up, guys having heart to heart, hair curlers, just staring at each other, kind gesture, lonely, looking like death, lost in each other's eyes, mental struggle, morning meeting, nervous as hell, nipple, no sleep, past history, paying the bill, pet carrier, quiet ride home, revealing secrets, riled up, sleeping dog, so glad to be home, talking with the neighbors, threaten to quit job, tongue play, typical afternoon, uh oh, unexpected, video streaming, wedding ring, welsh - Freeform, wings and fries, worried
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23353282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarrieMaxwell/pseuds/CarrieMaxwell
Summary: Sam comes into work one day looking like Death warmed over. After finally getting it out of her that Bowser is sick, Charles insists on taking her home, regardless how she feels about it. A melancholy ride home soon leads to a physical altercation and insults thrown as he literally carries her inside her apartment. What happens next is something neither one of them was prepared for.
Relationships: Charles Jones/Sam Young (Let's Play), Marshall Law (Let's Play)/Monica McKenzie
Comments: 167
Kudos: 236





	1. Bowser is Sick

The moment Lucy saw Sam when she entered the main office; she knew something was extremely wrong. Ever since becoming Charles’s assistant, she had been dressing in more professional clothing and holding herself higher.  
But not today.

Today, Sam Young looked like Death warmed over. Her hair was wind-blown and wispy. Her eyes had dark circles underneath them and the sclera’s were red, proof she had been crying. She had reverted back to her old style of clothing as well. In fact, she looked like a damn slob. She didn’t even mumble a greeting, just charged in and headed straight to her office.

Lucy immediately got Charles on the phone. “Something’s wrong with Sam.” Was all she needed to say. Barely placing her bottom into her chair, Sam was jolted when Charles practically stormed in. Hand on her chest to ease her pounding heart; she didn’t even chastise him for startling her.

He stopped when he saw her, and then gently shut the door behind him. “My apologies for barging in, but Lucy was concerned about you.”

She just shrugged and removed the satchel bag off her shoulder. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather just stay in here today.”

“I do mind.” He said, coming closer. She turned her head away from him and held her right hand up, as if to say ‘STOP’. The scar was evident still; it would be for a long time. But he was not deterred. “I at least need to know what’s wrong.” He softly said, taking her hand. “Are you ill? Were you mugged?” He squatted down so he wouldn’t seem so imposing, in the hopes that she’d feel comfortable looking down at someone for once, rather than always forcing herself to look upwards.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” She answered in a flat voice, devoid of any emotion. “I just need to be alone.” She tried shoving him away, but he remained as he was.

“You realize I can’t do that. Not when there’s this much a shift from your normal behavior and dress. You could’ve just called in rather than present yourself this way.”

Again, she tried freeing her hand from his. Frustrated, she finally turned and faced him. He saw so much pain in her eyes, more than when she had the painful injection at the clinic. There was an underlying layer of anger burning that struck him. Something drastic happened in the time between her leaving work yesterday and now.

“Bunty…tell me.” He pleaded softly, feeling just as hurt as she looked. He could never see her be upset without a pang of guilt running through him. He couldn’t recall doing anything that would’ve made her feel this way.

“If I tell you will you leave me alone?” she asked, wiping and eye.

“As much as I can do while here.” He answered, giving her no guarantee of privacy. He was going to get to the bottom of this by any means.

“It’s Bowser.” She said weakly. He almost didn’t hear her.

“Your dog? What happened to him?” Oh god, don’t tell me he got hit by a car…

“He’s sick.”

Charles released the breath he’d been holding, relieved and yet burdened with concern all at once. He ran his thumb along her hand, gazing up at her. This new perspective point was bringing on a strange sensation in him. 

“If he’s sick, by all means, you should be at home with him instead of here.”

“I can’t take a sick day for this, I need them for Flu season.” She replied, causing him to feel another tug at his heart. “And he’s still at the vet’s office.”

“He’s still there? Are they running tests?”

She sniffed, wiped her nose and nodded.

“I can’t ask you to work like this. You can go home and get some rest. I won’t mark this as a sick day.” He said, about to reach for her face but pulled his hand away. Instead he stood up and pulled her to her feet as well. 

“N-no….I n-need to work.” She quivered. “I can do this. I just need some time.”

“Absolutely not Miss Young.” He firmly stated. “You’re going home even if I have to take you there.”

She shocked him by slamming her left palm fiercely onto her desk. “No!” she exclaimed. “I am not a child Charles. I came here to work and I will.” She yanked her right hand free finally and shook it, as if to shake off the memory of his caress. She then pulled it behind her so he couldn’t reach for it again. 

His eyes narrowed, his brows furrowed together. If she had been anyone else, they’d have received a scathing retort. The boundaries of their relationship were far more blurred than that of just manager and assistant. He was her mentor; her friend, and…well, he hasn’t going to admit to anything else.

He knew she was a straw away from breaking. While he commended her willingness to work and be adult about the situation, he knew she was in too fragile a state to meet a client, converse over the phone, let alone even bump into someone here in the break room. He had a card to play, and he didn’t want to use it.

He crossed his arms. “Then you better shape up and brush your hair, because we have a client to meet, and it won’t be just a one-on-one like with Mr. Harris this time. Would you like your slovenly appearance to reflect on the company in front of a whole board just because you can’t keep it together?”

His words were bitter, harsh and cold. He regretted that tone, but it gave him the desired effect. She started shaking, she even shrank away when he put emphasis on ‘slovenly appearance’ and let out a tiny whimper in an attempt to hold back her tears. It killed a little part of him to have to drag her down, after all the progress she had been making, but he needed her to realize the truth.

The air between them hung with awkward tension. Any moment now and there’d either be a breakdown or a fight. And this was definitely not the place to have either. He uncrossed his arms and gripped the pockets of his slacks, his resolve to keep his hands off of her being tested. Her arms wrapped protectively around herself, head shifted so she wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“Is that true?” she asked.

His nostrils flared with the deep breath he took. “You can either stay here and find out, or let me take you home. And do not even think of mentioning the bus.”

Truth was, there wouldn’t be another bus on the route for a few more hours, and so even if she had wanted to take it, she’d still be here at work and have to deal with people. The thought of everyone staring at her, whispering among themselves, wondering what was wrong with her was too overwhelming. “Fine.” She acquiesced in defeat. “I’ll go home.”

Relief ran down his spine as he let out a breath. “Good, now let’s go before your father sees you and thinks it’s something I’ve done.” He picked up her satchel bag and waved a hand out in front of her so that she could step ahead. He flicked the light switch off and shut the door. She stood in the hall for a second as he headed into his office and gathered his car keys and closed his laptop, shutting the door firmly behind him.

As they made their way into the main cubicle hub, he placed a hand gently to her back to steady her as walked by without a word to anyone. At the main desk he addressed Lucy without even looking her way. “Put my schedule on hold; tell anyone who calls that I had a family emergency. I’m taking Miss Young home; she’s not well.”

“Right.” Lucy nodded and began clicking away at the computer.

He stopped. “And don’t use any of her allotted sick days. I’d rather she need them for later.”

“Oh?” the little redhead replied curiously. Then she just nodded and made a few more clicks. “Ok then.” She said. “Feel better Sam.” She called after her friend, watching the pair walk out with conflicting emotions. Something clearly was up, but just what was it? 

In silence, they walked to the parking lot and towards his car. Charles opened the door for her and she slid in, melting into the passenger seat like a Jell-O mold. Once he turned on the engine, his radio roared to life with a haunting melody paired with symphonic metal. He was about to switch it off when she said “No, it’s fine.”

He tilted his head at her, watching as she closed her eyes and let the music speak to her. Having no clue what her musical tastes were, he was surprised to see her make a connection to the Dutch symphonic metal band known as Epica. The song in particular was Feint, and had a way of lifting the spirit from the body and carrying it away for those few minutes. He let her enjoy the song as he drove out of the lot and through the block.

When the track ended, he turned the volume down so he could speak. “I want you know that I would never speak to you as crassly as I did in the office. I didn’t like having said what I did and how I said it either. I just needed you to see how close you were to breaking down.”

He wasn’t sure if she said ‘yeah right’ or ‘you’re right’ but she had at least acknowledged his words. Several more minutes of silence followed, only filled with the low volume foreign music that seemed strangely soothing. “Samara,” he finally broke the ice, “How did you get to the vet yesterday?”

“Marshall and Monica. They drove me.” She answered; chin resting in hand, starring out of her window. “Marshall had to calm down or else his heart monitor would sound off.”  
“He’s wearing a heart monitor now?”

“Yeah, it’s because of that…Tackio….Tacosubo…”

“Takotsubo cardiomyopathy.” He supplied the answer, the words rolling effortlessly off his tongue. She nodded and pointed a finger his way. “Yep, that.” 

Charles could only imagine the struggle Benjamin was having in keeping his emotions in check. The kid was even more of an emotion-on-his-sleeve type than Samara, entirely too passionate about everything. Anything he chose to care about, he cared about it 100% all the time.

The powerful strumming of violins filled the air as Apocalyptica came on, with their instrumental cover of ‘Wherever I May Roam’ vibrating in the seats. Sam tapped her fingers in rhythm. He saw her head nod to the beat. His fingers tapped along on the steering wheel. Cellos and violins danced in musical lovemaking and made the ride all the more bearable.

“I see you approve of today’s musical selection.” He joked as he pushed the power button on the radio and pulled into the lot of her apartment complex. But she didn’t comment back. He sighed and exited the vehicle, coming around to her door and opening it gracefully. He offered his hand, but she pushed it away and climbed out on her own. It’d be a lie to say that didn’t hurt in a small way, but he said nothing as he shut the door and walked beside her. 

“You don’t have to walk me to my door.” She grumbled, holding her satchel bag to her chest.

“There’s no way I’m letting you hike up these stairs in your condition without making sure I see you are safely inside your home.” He replied firmly. “You look like a breeze could topple you.”

Her shoulders hunched up and she stopped. He nearly bumped into her little frame and rocked back on his heels. She spun around and glared daggers at him. “Quit babying me!” she shouted, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

She certainly startled him; she could see that written on his face as he took her verbal abuse. Why couldn’t he just stop being this Mr. Nice & Perfect and tell her to go home like he had last week? She’d rather take his cold shoulder than helping hand right now. Hadn’t she snapped at him enough for him to catch on that she didn’t want him near her?

Ever since she had laid her true feelings out for him, the morning after their dinner date, the following week had been normal. They worked, they spoke with clients, they had managed papers and files and oversaw data encryptions and scheduled appointments for meetings. There had been no little touches between them. He hadn’t placed his large warm hand over hers in comfort. He hadn’t taken her arm to help her step up a stairway. They were just manager and assistance, no silly girly crush making her behave any differently.

As it should be.

She just kept marching briskly up those stairs, huffing with anger and frustration. Her breathing was becoming labored but desperation to get inside her home fueled her. She wiped the sweat off her brow and tried quelling the volcanic fury she was certain even someone as perceptive as Charles Jones could feel. Now she knew how Angela felt on any given day.

At her door, she leaned her forehead against the cool metal and calmed her breathing. She gripped her satchel tight and focused. In-out, in-out. Her knees felt ready to give any second. Oh please God, let me just make it inside. Shoulders quivering, her heart nearly stopped when she felt his hand gently land on her shoulder. “Here, let me.” He softly offered, reaching for her bag. At the risk of losing the last bit of energy she had, she let him take it. He removed the keys from the front pocket and inserted the key. The click of the lock shifting had never been so welcome before to her.

But then he did something unexpected. After pushing her door open he turned to her and pulled her into his arms, then lifted her up and crossed the threshold.

“What the frag? Charles!” she shouted in shock, “Put me down!” She began wriggling, kicking her legs and slapping at his chest.

“Stop doing that and just behave.” He ordered, before uttering something probably profane in his native tongue and closing the door behind him and turning into the hallway. He had seen her level of exhaustion; he knew she was emotionally and mentally spent as much as she was physically.

“I told you to stop all this crap!” she insisted, flinging her hands like a toddler being taken to bed. That’s exactly how she felt he was treating her. She grabbed at the wall, failing to catch a decent grip. He had a firm hold and didn’t waver at all, damn him. With his shoe, he pushed her door open since it had not been latched and just marched on in like he own the place and carried her to her bed. He bent low and set her bottom on the mattress when her hand flung wildly and made a connection. A hard slap across his cheek that echoed off her walls and reverberated in the air around them. 

In an instant, her hands flew to cover her mouth as she gasped at the horror of what she’d done. She saw the flesh of his cheek turn from that pale ivory into a pink blotch, her handprint coming into focus with every second. Her eyes had widened like she was facing the epitome of all her fears wrapped into one entity and her body started trembling. Slowly, as if it had been a delayed reaction, Charles brought his hand up to feel the pulsating fire in his left cheek. His eyes had remained fixed onto her, like a snake staring down the mouse he was about to devour.

“Well then,” his voice, oddly calm, terrified her more than she thought it would. “If that’s how you’re going to be today.”

“I’m so sorry!” she cried. “Honestly, I wasn’t even trying to-“

“You certainly have exquisite aim.” He remarked, his cheek filled with blazing heat. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was a direct hit.” His eyes narrowed. “This is more than just about Bowser.” He said with absolute certainty. “Care to explain?” 

She shook her head immediately in denial; hands placed out in front her. He saw how red her right hand was, the healing cut now brightly scarlet and slightly puffy. Her fear must be overriding her pain, he noted. He snatched her right wrist with his right hand and pulled her up to her feet, locking her in place with his left arm. She wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Then you are going to stay just like this until you do.”

She immediately began to squirm, but he only held on firmly. She was no match, even exhausted as she was; he was far too fit to be easily shaken off. If he let her go she’d more than likely hit the floor in a heap of limbs. 

“You’re not the boss here!” she snapped, eyes set with confident determination. “This is my House, Charles.” He had to admit, it was quite attractive.

“Until I leave, I still hold my rank, and I am seeing to your well-being.” He countered, delighting in the puff of her cheeks and crinkled nose. “No self-respecting gentleman would leave a lady at her door that was on the verge of collapsing.”

“I’m fine!” she hollered, pushing at him with her left hand. “What kind of gentleman holds a lady against her will?”

“The kind that knows this a front for some sort of other situation.” His eyes narrowed. “You’ve never been good at lying my dear Bunty.” 

“I’m not your Bunty!” she nearly screamed, finally registering a crack in the armor he had and pushed herself away from him, falling onto her bed. Once on her back, her hands again flew to cover her mouth. Another outburst she had not meant, but dealt a hit just as direct on target as she had before. She flinched when he loomed over her, hands on either side of her head, knees pressing hers together, keeping her rightly pinned in place.

“Now I know this is not about the dog. You’re upset with me, aren’t you?” His eyes froze her to her core.

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut until she felt his left hand come and take hold of her jaw. Shocked back open, she looked up and let out a gasping breath. He looked so hurt. Her quaking hands, clasped in between her breasts, gingerly reached up and touched his chest. She felt a thundering beat beneath her fingers, a heartbeat similar to her own.

“I’m mad at myself.” She confessed in a tear-threatening thick voice. “I’m mad that I can’t stop thinking about you. That I rewind that night over and over in my head every night, thinking how wonderful and sweet you were, that I’ve never had that with anyone before.” The tears spilled freely now. “And I know that you don’t really think of me like that, even though you said I was beautiful and it’s just to help build me up but I can’t help it…” 

“Please don’t cry annwyl.” He begged, feeling his heart tear straight down the middle with a hot knife. He let go of her jaw to lift the glasses off her face and set them aside.  
She squeezed her eyes shut and cried more. Her hands gripped his vest, nails digging in. “I should’ve never become your assistant!”

He tried shushing her, but she either wouldn’t hear him or couldn’t as she cried. He wiped the flood of tears away with his thumb until it was just as soaked as her cheeks, now blotchy and pink. “Samara, cariad, please stop.” 

But her hands had only gone from grabbing the fabric of his clothing to holding his face, a hand on either side of his chin. Her vision blurred with an ocean of tears, she could no longer see. Her face so wet, she couldn’t feel an additional tear that fell from a piercing blue eye. She felt his hand smooth back the hair from her face and stroke her hair, before his fingers trailed down her throat and linger.

“Tywysoges, look at me.” He whispered, beseeching those beautiful dark eyes of hers. “I have something to say.”

She let go of his face and wiped her eyes, using the sleeve of her shirt to actually dry them rather than smear more salty liquid aside. Trembling with trepidation, she finally did as requested. 

“In English?” she asked, smiling wryly. She’d heard more Welsh out of him here than she could count.

He smiled with a nod. “I feel the same way, despite all my attempts not to.” He traced his thumb along her throat. “I keep telling myself ‘No’ but if you’re so brave enough to share this deep seated feeling, then who am I to deny it myself?”

The tears stopped. Her mouth parted but she could respond. Her heart felt as if it had fallen to floor and then jumped right back into her chest. 

“Y-you do?”

“Aye Bunty. I am just as hopelessly drawn to you as you have been to me.” Then he cocked his head to the side. “Or am I not allowed to call you Bunty anymore?”

“I’m sorry I said that.” Her eyes darted to the side as her hands fidgeted with themselves. His hand slipped down from her throat and rest on top of them. She turned back to face him. He closed the distance between them, lips brushing against hers, enticing them to meet his and entwine. The arm bracing him sunk into the mattress and began quivering. His awkward position needed to change or he’d fall on top of her, so he slid his hand to support her from underneath and helped shift her further along her bed. She backpedaled in assistance until there was enough room for him to finally rest his knees along the mattress and lean his body against hers.

Now that there was nothing holding him back, he held her tight and deepened the kiss, knowing damn well that this was against all the rules, against everything he had been fighting, against his own code.

To Hell with it all, I cannot escape her pull.

He parted his lips from hers, loving that euphoric expression on her face as she was taking in deep breaths to recover. He wanted to be the one to cause that expression, and the only one. His fingers once again trailed down her throat, feeling the veins throb with every swallow, every breath. A primal urge from within wanted to sink his teeth into her, leaving a mark for everyone to see. A mark that would say ‘She Is Taken’ but he’d have to play safe with her. She couldn’t march right into work with a hickey-of any size-and not expect to draw the attention of her father. At least, not in a visible place…

“This was not how I expected my morning to go.” He chuckled, seeing his little lamb blush.

“Me either…”

He brought himself into a lounging position, resting on his elbow. “Now my dear, do you think you’re calm enough to actually speak with me?”

She nodded, still lying on her back. Her hand fumbled for and retrieved her glasses. Once secured in hand, she sat up to be level with Charles. He swept more hair away from her sticky face and tucked it behind her ear.

“Now then. I’m ordering that you get some rest today, and if you like, I can come by after work with some dinner. Is that agreeable with you?” His thumb teased a line across her bottom lip.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“I will explain your absence to your father, so all you need to do is focus on your own well-being….And just so you know, there was no board meeting scheduled.”

She shook her head with a little nasal laugh. “I knew it. You were just getting me riled up.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” he smiled playfully.

“You can be such a…” but then she stopped herself. She’d already thrown enough insults at him for one day.

“Such a what? An ass. Yes, I know I was.” He responded proudly. “I’m quite good at playing the bad guy when needed.”

She cocked her head to the side with that thought. “Maybe that’s why my dad doesn’t trust you as far as he could throw you.”

He playfully booped the tip of her nose. “Score one for the cutie with glasses.” Her face instantly flushed to his delight. He flicked his wrist over to glance at his watch. Shit, a whole hour had already passed. “I need to go fy un hardd.” He said and pushed himself up off the bed.

“Wait, what does that mean?” she asked as he smoothed his suit.

“It means I’ve already spent too much time here and need to go.” He answered casually, knowing exactly that that was not what she was referring to.

“It’s not fair when you start saying things I can’t understand, let alone even try to spell.” She crossed her arms. “Don’t your people know what vowels are?”

He erupted into a hard laugh. That was pretty much what everyone said when trying to read a damn word in Welsh. Tourists would go crossed-eyed and become tongue-tied just trying to ask the name of a town’s sign. He planted a kiss on her forehead. “Oh but you see, that’s my secret delight. I get to say whatever I want and watch you try to figure it out.”

She huffed and threw her pillow at him. “There you go again, being an…an…oh you know what!”

The pillow bounced off his solid frame and hit the floor with a soft plop. “Don’t you move fast? First a slap and now throwing things?” he knelt down and picked up the pillow and tossed it back in place on the bed. “And we haven’t even slept together yet.” 

Her face turned beet red. “Charles!”

He seductively winked, causing sensations to stir within her. “As tempted as I am to stay and see what else I can get away with, I must go.” He lingered in her doorway. “Do you think you can behave until my return?”

She shot him a playful scowl. 

“You get some rest Bunty.” He smiled, finally departing, shutting her bedroom door behind him. When he retraced his path through her apartment, he locked the apartment door before shutting it behind him, leaving her safe and sound with the confines of her home. He exhaled a deep long breath, and briskly descended the stairs and rushed to his car, quickly shifting into gear and racing his ass back to work.  
………………………….


	2. I Need To Tell You Some Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles brings home some dinner to Sam's as promised, but the mood becomes serious when he says "I need to tell you some things" and unfolds the secrets he's been hiding for so long, coming clean about things he's done for her to judge if he's still worthy of her. Serious situations ahead.

Charles made short work of returning to Young Technologies and slipping back into the office casually. No one would’ve ever guessed that something of great magnitude had just transpired; his demeanor was cool and collected, his performance flawless as he worked. True to his word, he did relay the message to his superior as to why the man’s daughter wasn’t there.

Samuel immediately wanted to call her and check on her, but Charles insisted that she get her rest and to wait until tomorrow when she had the prognosis from the Vet. He had put just enough emphasis on Samara’s dark eye circles and exhaustion to make the man a believer. As much as he hated to agree with the Welsh, Samuel put away his phone and did not bother his baby girl.

Never one to shy away from playing with fire, Charles nonchalantly added: “Oh, I’ll be bringing her some dinner tonight, could you recommend one of her favorite restaurants?”  
“You’re doing what now?” Samuel choked out.

Charles looked completely stoic as he settled some papers on his desk. “Well someone has to bring her business reports to her. It might as well be me since it’s already on my way home. And I already offered to bring her something anyway.’ He glanced over the sheet in his hand. “Don’t tell me you can’t trust me with that single task now?”

Mr. Young growled as he once again tried sizing up this towhead peacock. If the man wasn’t so damn good at his job he’d been gone long ago. He knew the guy couldn’t keep his hands off a beautiful young woman; he’d heard the rumors and whispers and seen the changes in behavior with some previous female employees in the building. Luckily no one he had to fire or who quit for reasons unknown. He was already apprehensive enough about having her become his assistant.

“That better be all you do.” The father stated in a heavy tone.

“I can assure you Sir; I have no ill intentions with Miss Young. She will be perfectly safe.”

“Fine.” Samuel said with a nod. “When she’s feeling down, we would pick Arby’s to cheer her up. She loves the curly fries.”

“Excellent. Arby’s it is.”  
………………………….

It wasn’t exactly easy to go ‘get some rest’ as simply ordered, not after such an explosive and dramatic scene rewinding in her head. She had felt like a fool, blurting out her confession, and then overwhelmed when he made his own. Feeling his lips, his body, his hands….her skin felt alive where he had touched her. She held on tightly to one of her pillows and nestled in under her blanket, already anticipating Charles’s return. 

But it was still early enough in the day, and once she had calmed down well enough to just breathe deeply and sigh, she soon found herself yawning, and then giving way to slumber. A long restful nap recharged her, awakening her hours later. She checked her phone and found that there was a missed call from the Vets office, terror turning her blood to ice. She sat up and pushed the return call button, trying not to throw up as she heard the ringing sound. Relief and a new sense of uneasiness enveloped her when she heard the click of the call being answered. She never really felt comfortable talking to someone on the phone, but if she didn’t, she’d never know what was wrong with Bowser.

“What?” she asked; dumbfounded.

“Yes, I was shocked at first too, but there’s a microchip in his small intestine. Due to the risk of it tearing the soft lining, we are going to have to go in and surgically remove it. Do you happen to know where he could’ve gotten hold of such a thing?”

“Oh God,” she sighed, “It’s my fault. I work for Young Technologies; I’m always handling computer parts. There’s no telling when it transferred from work to home.”

“I see.” She heard clicking on a keyboard. “That’s absolutely plausible and purely accidental. We’ve got him scheduled first thing in the morning with a specialist with these kinds of things. You wouldn’t believe the stuff we’ve removed from dogs before.”

Sam’s stomach churned sourly. 

When she ended the call and ran to her bathroom. In the medicine cabinet she had an arsenal of medication, and what she need now was antacid. Chewing a TUMS and washing it down with a cup of water, she made up her mind to strip and shower away her stress. The hot water ran down her skin, comforting and soothing. She lathered up a sponge and rubbed it all over her body, imaging the hands of a certain someone touching her instead. Her modesty prevented her from getting too carried away, after all, hadn’t he asked her to behave herself?

She finished the last minutes with cool water, dousing the arousal that threatened to overwhelm her. With a towel wrapped around her torso, she carefully stepped out of the shower and turned on her hair dryer. While she wasn’t one for crazy appliances to amplify one’s features such as a flat iron, she did enjoy the speed and efficiency of a hair dryer, especially when her hair was longer. It sure beat the drip-drop of air drying and getting everything around her wet.

Having no idea what to expect, or what Charles would expect when he would arrive, she stood at her closet and starred, lost in her wardrobe. This wasn’t like their dinner date, they weren’t going out. So there wasn’t a need to show off the T & A, like Monica had suggested. That didn’t mean she could go full on house sloth either. The struggle was real. In the end though, comfort superseded fashion. If Charles could dress down, the so could she. She picked a thin strap tank top and sweatpants, then fished around a minute more and pulled out one her large cardigans that used to swallow her frame whole. 

She kept turning this way and that in front of her mirror, second guessing, third guessing her choices. Was it too much? Not enough? Too casual? She didn’t have the luxury of having the option to change; there was a knock at her door.

He was here!

She dashed to the door as if he’d disappear if she didn’t get there soon enough and swung it open with a heaving chest and panting face. Her breath caught in her throat at seeing him with his hair loose, his button up shirt untucked and the top two buttons undone. He left the tie, vest, and jacket in his car. In his hands he held bags from Arby’s. He chuckled at her deer-in-the-headlights expression. “I come bearing gifts.” He announced much like when he brought her the ice cream and hot chocolate. She stepped aside and let him enter. He set the bags on the kitchen counter. “A big protective birdy told me Arby’s was the way to cheer you up at times like these.”

Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head. “What?” she exclaimed closing and locking the door. “You got my dad to actually divulge that to you?”

He turned around and braced his hands on the counter behind him. “I have my ways.”

She crossed her arms and stuck her hip out. “Oh really?” The man was so damn smug at times; it could infuriate as well as be attractive. He did have a silver tongue, that much was true. “I wonder if I even want to know how you pulled that one.”

He flipped the hair that had fallen over his face and laughed. “The Magician doesn’t reveal all his secrets. Now, who’s hungry?” He spun around and picked up the bags and marched into the living room. “I didn’t pick up any beverages; I wasn’t sure what you’d prefer.”

“That’s alright; I usually go for the tea or lemonade.” She opened her fridge and pulled out a pitcher. “And luckily I have some. Would you like a glass?”

“Yes please.” He answered, pulled out the sandwiches and curly fries and placing them on the coffee table. She came up with two drinking cups filled with the tangy yellow drink and set them down. It was a cute little indoor patio like setting. She took a seat beside him, but with a little distance, and took the roast beef he handed her. For some reason, she was more nervous now than when entering the Snug at the pub. She tried to hide it by taking a huge bite, getting cheese sauce all on the side of her lips. Charles let out a little snort chuckle and handed her a napkin. “Easy, Bunty.”

Sheepishly, she took the napkin and wiped off the sauce. They ate in relative silence. She from awkward anxiety; He from actual hunger. He didn’t approve of most of America’s fast food, but Arby’s did like to set itself apart from the burger and chicken dime-a-dozen spots that dotted every mile of the city.

Another good bite and cheese sauce plopped right onto her tank top. Ugh, it never failed. It was always on a fresh clean shirt. She growled and started to reach for a napkin when Charles stopped her. He had a curly fry in his hand. “Hold on, I’ll get that.” He held up the fry, but just before it was close enough to scrape off the sauce, he leaned in and flicked his tongue across her chest, leaving a damp trail in its wake.

His eyes never left hers, causing her to instantly go from zero to turned on. A tiny gasp escaped her lips and her nipples started hardening right before her eyes. His devilish grin told her he knew all too well what he was doing to her. He half expected her glasses to fog over from the steam that should be shooting from her ears.

“Perhaps that was a little too much.” He chuckled, utterly delighted in her shocked arousal. He took his glass and sipped some lemonade, eyes still fixed on her. “You have no idea what the body is capable of experiencing, even from something as simple as that.”

Her hand went to cover the spot he licked, trying to calm her hummingbird heart. That was incredibly sexy and a little terrifying at the same time. She finished her sandwich quickly, with no more sauce drips, and washed it down with some lemonade. She honestly had no idea what to say or do next now that her meal was eaten. In nervousness, she began gathering up the wrappers and sauce packs. His hand came down to stop hers. “There’s no need to be so nervous, I promise I’m not going to do anything to you.” He gently pulled her into his lap so he could wrap his arms around her. “There’s actually another reason I insisted on returning here tonight.” He tipped her chin to meet his eyes. “I need to tell you some things.”

In his arms, in his lap, there was nowhere to go. She pulled her cardigan around herself some more and braced one hand against his chest as he leaned back against the couch. “I’m sure you’ve got some perceived notion about me. From what you’ve gathered on your own and whatever your father and brother have said. And whatever that opinion is, it probably isn’t that far off from the truth.”

“You know I don’t believe rumors and stuff.” She replied.

“Every rumor has a grain of truth. I’m far from a choir boy Samara; I’ve made my share of mistakes and bad decisions. And I need you to be aware of what kind of man I’ve been.”

She gave him a nod, permission to continue.

“The reason your brother dislikes me so much, is that I ended up stealing away a past girlfriend. Not the one he’s with now, this was before her. Course, I was unaware that she was in a relationship. I was lead to believe that she was single. I do not condone cheating. But Jay believes I did it maliciously, trying to show him up.”

Her eyes widened at this admission. That would explain some things.

“Of course he told your father, and there was another woman I had been with that worked in the same building, just not the same department. Word eventually got around that I was as they call, a ‘playboy’. And I won’t deny it. I had several partners, but was committed to none.”

“Oh….” She responded, trying to wrap her head around the confessional. “Everyone has a past Charles, I won’t judge you.”

“I’m asking that you do.” He said seriously. “I know that you my dear, have yet to have a date, or even a kiss until just recently.” Her faced flushed. “And all of this is new. It is my responsibility as the more experienced partner to guide you, but not to turn you into just another fling that means nothing.”

She shifted in his lap. This conversation was making her feel a little uneasy. His hand came up to her cheek, those fingers delicately caressing her neck and cheek. She closed her eyes, enveloped in the sensation. “I’m not the kind of man that any father or brother would approve of. Even your mother would tell you to be wary of my intentions. And the fact that this would have to remain a secret while we’re at work are all reasons why you shouldn’t be with me.”

Her eyes shot open. “What?” She leaned up against his chest and tightened her grip on him. “No, don’t say that.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Fy angel, please, I want to be the best for you. But you are taking a damaged man into your heart, and you deserve someone without such a tarnished reputation.” 

Damaged? Tarnished reputation?

“Do you really think I need to know all this? It’s not like I had some naïve misconception that you’ve never had a relationship. I expected that you had a few.” Her hand lightly flexed, scratching at his chest, letting her fingers brush gently across that tiny part of skin that was exposed.

“I have far more experiences that have shaped me into the man I am now, and not all of them came from good ones.” He placed his hand on top of the hers, halting her little finger flexing. “This isn’t easy for me to say.” He sighed.

“You don’t have to-“

“Yes Samara,” he interrupted, squeezing her hand. “It needs to be said.”

But there was a moment of silence instead. He brought his hand up to rub his brow, trying to muster his courage. “Hold on.” He ordered, getting to his feet and setting her back down on the couch. He then knelt down to both his knees and took hold of her left hand while the other fished something out his pocket. He gently placed it in her hand and leaned back, watching her open her palm to discover a wedding band on a necklace chain.

“I was once married.” He all but whispered, as if those words were painful to say.

She looked at the band. It would’ve been the one he wore; being larger than any of her fingers could fit. “Did she….pass away?”

He harrumphed. “Being widowed would make it all so much easier.”

The words shocked her. Death being easier than what?

“You recall I said I don’t condone cheating?” He rested his hands on both her knees, his head hung low. “I was loyal. Loving. I gave her everything I had. I put her every need before my own….It still wasn’t enough though.” 

She brought a hand to her mouth.

“She broke every dream I had, the entire future I had planned with her: children, dogs, and a little white picket fence….All gone. I had nothing to live for without her…I did something incredibly stupid to ease my pain and almost succeeded.”

A cold sweat trickled down her back.

He lifted his head and held her gaze. “I tried committing suicide Samara. And I woke up in the hospital, tubes and wires all around me. They had to come in routinely and draw blood or inject something to flush out my system and ever since I can’t bare the sight of a needle.”

She nodded, understanding where the phobia stemmed from.

“But even then, I couldn’t go anywhere. Every place reminded me of her, or I risked running into her. I couldn’t stomach seeing my homeland anymore….So I put in for an overseas transfer with the company I worked for back in Wales. They didn’t want to let me go, but my credentials were glowing, and your father’s company offered me a job straight up. All I had to do was just move to California. So I did. I sold nearly everything I had, got rid of everything I ever shared with her-except that ring. I couldn’t let it go.”

He covered her hand, concealing the chain within.

“I felt incapable of loving again. Undeserving of it even. After all, I must’ve done something to cause her to stray, right? But no, I’ve learned that sometimes you can do everything right and there will still be someone who will cut you regardless. So I locked my heart away. No one in, no one close, no one there to hurt me again.”

He laid his head in her lap. She rested her other hand on his back, rubbing gently. He let out a little sigh, shifting his shoulders. His head was turned to one side so he could continue speaking. “And there you have it. I’ve shattered the rosy glasses you’ve looked upon me with and now you see that I’m every bit that’s wrong for you.” 

“No you haven’t.” she said, finally breaking her silence after all this time. She started stroking his hair. “I guess maybe I was a little naïve when I said you were perfect, but you always presented yourself so well polished and put together. Always know what to say, how to act, what to do. I felt like a Toad anytime I was next to you.”

He brought his head up. “Annwyl, you could never be a toad. You are by far, more beautiful than you realize. And I’ll not hear another word of you putting yourself down, am I clear on that?” he sternly added, bringing his hand to caress her cheek.

“What do you want me to do with this?” she asked, indicating the wedding band. 

“Throw it back into Mordor.” He said, pushing her hand aside. “You give me hope Samara. Hope for happiness. For something real.” His lips were just an inch away from hers. “If you can accept me and what I’ve done with my life.’ He gently kissed her, then pulled back, “Then allow me to be the one to unlock all your secrets, awaken your inner desires, and share in your first experiences.”

Her knees felt weak. Thank goodness she was already sitting, because she was certain she would’ve fainted had she been on her feet. His words radiated sincere warmth, and it touched all the right spots of her, tingling in ways they never had before. It wasn’t just arousal, it was more than that, as if her very soul had shaken off the dust and opened its eyes for the first time and breathed in this promise, this pact, this vow. 

The ring hit the floor as she pulled him into her lap, her hands holding his face and demanding a kiss. His hands rested on each thigh, himself in between her legs, struggling so hard to remain where they were and not start ripping clothing. As much as he wanted her, he wanted to take his time with her, not rush. If anything, he wanted to go about it properly. She was too rare a treasure to not be treated with the dignity and respect.

He leaned his torso into her, hands moving from her thighs to her wrists and removing her hold and pinning them at her sides. She was pressed further into the cushion with no chance of escape. His lips moved from hers to her ear, his tongue flicking her earlobe, enjoying the little sounds she made. “I can be awfully demanding.” He whispered seductively, torturing her sensitive neck with the lightest of touches. “And I’m quite good at getting what I want…you know this, don’t you? That if I pushed just the right button,” his tongue trailed down her throat, ending at her cleavage. “That I could already have you naked.”

A little “ahhhh” escaped from her as she tried to contain herself. He was setting her on fire, with just his words and his tongue. She knew he was barely doing anything and it was driving her wild. How could she contain herself when he was actually trying? His flicked his eyes up at her, absolutely pleased with her struggle for composure. “You’re entirely too easy to tease.” He smirked. “I’ve never met a more sensitive woman.”

“I-I…can’t help…it.” She panted, struggling with the balance of breathing and wanting to scream and withhold the whimpers of delight. All her neurons were firing like never before, making her body want to do a thousand things at once.

“And don’t think you can hide this little body from me under this unflattering tent of yours.” He teased, taking hold of her cardigan with his teeth and flinging it from its protective hold on her breast. He watched her nipple harden from under the stretchy fabric of her tank top, wondering if her choice to not put on a bra was intentional or not. With painstakingly patience, he teased the hardened peak through the fabric with his tongue, loving her body jolt from the shock it sent through her. 

“Sorry!” she cried as he worked his tongue in circles.

“No more apologizing Samara.” He ordered, delicately pressing his teeth on the fleshy button. A sharp gasp escaped her as she flinched, her arms trying to free themselves from his hold. “I’m going to break that little habit of yours, one way or another.” He promised, detaching himself from his target only to blow a cooling gentle breath on it. It stiffened immediately. “Even if I have to torture it out of you.” He chuckled in devilish delight.

“Not fair.” She whispered, thighs trembling.

“I never promised to play fair Bunty.” He countered, finally releasing her wrists and cradling her head, wiping away the moisture building up in her eyes. “But I will take care to not push you before you are ready.” He pulled her in for a kiss, soft and reassuring. “I’d never forgive myself if I made you feel coerced. And so we must build up until you’ve grown accustomed to the sensations you’re experiencing right now.”

She nodded weakly; pretty sure she couldn’t take any more of his tongue if he touched her with it again. He realized she was at her limit and knew when to withdraw. She was fascinating to observe. “As much as I love playing with my food,” he joked in a low tone, “I also know when enough is enough.”

Oh thank goodness, she sighed with relief. Her panties were already wet enough, her shirt damp from his tongue play. She snatched the ends of her cardigan and wrapped it around herself tightly, her face a bright pink. He slowly rose from the floor, knowing the discarded wedding band was lying on the carpet, desperately glinting at him to lure him back into its comforting hold. He turned his head away from it, seeing their trash from dinner on the coffee table and began picking it up. “You don’t have to do that.” She said.

“I know, but I want to. After all, I brought it here.” In just a few seconds, he had all the wrappers and containers crumbled into one of the bags and was crushing it down further. He took it to the kitchen and tossed it into her trash receptacle. The apartment felt too quiet and empty without Bowser bouncing around. When he re-entered the living room, he saw her stoking one of her throw pillows as she would have the little fella been lying next to her. He took a seat and pulled her to lean on him.

“So tell me about him. Did the veterinarian call?”

She nodded. Her hand came up to wipe an eye. He rubbed her arm for comfort. “The vet said they have to go in surgically. He swallowed a microchip and it could cut him up if passes any further.”

“A microchip?”

“More than likely one from work. It’s the only place I can think of having one small enough. It could’ve been stuck on my clothes or something. I don’t know.” 

He hugged her tightly. “Do not blame yourself over this. He could’ve eaten a rock or a plastic bottle cap and they’d have to do the same thing.” He felt her nod in agreement, but knew deep down that she was throwing herself on the cross for this mishap. He crossed his left arm over to take her hand and rest with it in her lap. “I’m sure he’ll be in good hands. Is the procedure tomorrow?”

“Yes, she said first thing in the morning. I can come in to work, but I might have to leave early if they call.”

“Quite alright.” He reassured her. “I’ll take you anywhere you need to go.”

“…...” She opened her mouth to protest but then shut it. He was going to insist and offer and persuade until she relented. Didn’t he say he was good at getting what he wanted? “Thank you.” She replied softly. 

She let out a breath and felt herself mold against him. Somehow that firmly chiseled chest of his made an excellent pillow. The scent from his shirt was soothing; she couldn’t quite put her finger on it yet. Then again, she was unfamiliar with men’s scented body wash or cologne or aftershave. It could be a commonplace scent, though; she didn’t think that Charles was the type to run to Wal-Mart for Old Spice. She didn’t realize she let out a small chuckle.

“Oh? What giddy thought are you having?” he inquired, running his hand along her arm. 

She smiled. “Can’t a girl just have her own little thought to herself?”

“Already daydreaming about me?” he teased, his fingers tickling her side. His other hand held onto hers so it wouldn’t go flying up and smack him again. She squirmed and jerked all while laughing and pleading for him to stop. After a minute, he did.

“You’re evil!” she gasped, steadying her breath.

“Entirely so.” He agreed without hesitation.

“You’re not supposed to actually agree with that!” she shouted, turning and smacking his chest playfully. “You’re supposed to try and convince me that you’re-“

“What? A prince?” he interjected. He held her tight and locked his crystal gaze onto hers. “Oh no no, I have not achieved my redemption arc just yet. You may think you see the Prince underneath the Beast exterior, but that is just part of my charm.” His teeth grazed the tender flesh of her throat. “A wolf lives within every man.” He gave her a little nip. “The only thing that makes the difference between the predator and the loyal companion is the woman he’s with.” She shivered at his intense gaze, his words. “You’re still a temptation for the hunter.”

“So am I just lamb chops to you?” she teased softly, her fingers trailing along his chest in a little heart shape. 

He took her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers. “The most delectable, beautifully braised, juiciest set ever to grace a silver platter.”

Never before had being compared to food sounded so sexy. Oddly enough, she now wanted to try some braised lamb after that sultry comparison. Amazing how the man could turn the description of food into something downright arousing. “I’m never going to be able to look at lamb the same way again.”

He erupted with laughter, bellowing with absolute mirth. There was only so much adorable innocence he could take. He’d only laughed liked this twice before with her, and knew it wouldn’t be the last. She was pure sunshine in his cloudy gray world. They settled into comfortable silence, she within his arms, sitting in his lap once again, his arm wrapped around her protectively. The clock on the wall ticked by, reminding him that his time here was short. Not that he wanted to leave. Not now, not ever. 

“You’ve been quiet lately.” He said suddenly. “Bunty?”

Her head lolled against his chest, an incoherent murmur emitting from her. Fallen fast asleep. That was his cue, he needed to go. He shifted his arms under her and slowly rose to his feet. She leaned into him, hand on his chest. He walked slowly so as not to jostle her, carefully maneuvering down her hallway as he had before. At least this time, she wasn’t kicking and screaming. 

Taking a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark, he stood and glanced around her bedroom. He didn’t have to worry about tripping over anything, thank goodness, her room was exceptionally neat. A few strides across and he was gently easing her down. He removed her glasses and set them on her nightstand, then flicked the switch to turn her alarm on her digital clock. He glanced back over at her and decided he didn’t want to have to pull the blanket out from under her so he retraced his steps into the hall and found a closet door. Inside; towels, bedding and other stored goods. Exactly what he was looking for: a spare blanket. He quietly stepped back into her room and laid it over her.

Taking a moment to admire his sleeping beauty, he brushed hair away from her face and laid an extremely gentle kiss to her temple. He backed away and slowly closed her bedroom door, enveloping her in comfortable darkness. His eye immediately caught the golden glint of his ring lying on the living room floor, a seductive hiss in his ear, beckoning him to return. He stood over the piece of jewelry, hands clenched in fists. This tiny thing that held so much power and promise, a ball and chain binding his spirit to the past. 

‘It is a fucking ring, you pansy, pick it up and then go. It doesn’t have teeth or claws; it’s not going to electrocute you…’

She was the first person he had shown it to, told the history of it-hell, any of his history-and now that he had revealed it, he didn’t want to touch it. But leaving it here for her to deal with was unthinkable. Mustering his courage, he bent and looped the chain around his finger and scooped it back into his pocket. It would be dealt with later, away from Samara. This toxic circle of precious metal needed to be melted down and given new life as something else. Something he needed no part with, not anymore. 

He made sure to turn the lock on her doorknob before leaving, and tested the knob before taking even one step. Call it paranoia, overprotectiveness, possessiveness, whatever. He was making damn sure the door was safely locked, even if he had to sleep outside in the corridor as her guard. 

To clear his mind of the weight in his pocket, and his worry over Samara’s safety, he began thinking of a way to address the situation about the microchips. Surely she wasn’t the only one that had accidently transferred them back to their residence before? He’d bring it up in a staff meeting in the morning.  
………………….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * fy angel - my angel  
> *annwyl - darling


	3. Microchip Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First thing in the morning at Young Technologies, Charles calls for an emergency staff meeting to discuss the dangers of accidentally transferring company chips from work to home. A friendly gesture brings Umed to realize there's more going on under the surface, and he let's Charles have a piece of his mind.  
>  After receiving the call from the vet and letting out all her pent-up emotions, Sam relishes a comforting hug from Charles, only to have her father barge in on full protective mode. What ensues is a confrontation of Biblical proportions.

Sam didn’t even remember falling asleep in her bed; let alone pulling the blanket from the hall closet to cover herself with. She was still wearing her tank top, cardigan, and sweats so the only conclusion she could come to was that she had passed out in Charles’s arms and he had taken the liberty of tucking her in for the night. How could he say he wasn’t a good guy when he did such tender things like that? He could’ve easily let her sleep on the couch, or shook her awake so she could take herself to her bed after locking the door once he left.

After shutting off her clock alarm she stretched and flung off the spare blanket. A quick hot shower followed by fierce brushing of her hair and she was feeling better. There was not going to be a repeat of yesterday. She was going to have her head on straight and a proper work outfit and a can-do attitude. She needed to be strong. Flinging her hands in a weird, impromptu ‘jazz hands’ routine she scanned her closet for something business-like. It occurred to her that she might actually have to do some clothes shopping, but she was able to find a black blazer, and a long gray skirt. Now for the shirt….hmmm, oh this pink bib collared sleeveless one should so.

…………………..

When Charles awoke, he found himself wrapped around a pillow and tangled in his sheets. For such a large bed, it appeared that sleeping Charles had fought demons and finally succumbed to slumber from exhaustion. His hair was wild and he had a crick in his neck. He spent the next few minutes stretching, popping, shifting bones back into place. His body ached. Trying to recollect remnants of his dream from the night before, he left a trail of clothing to his bathroom and flung the lever for a shower. 

The hot water was a blessing, easing his muscles and his mind. Since he couldn’t properly determine what he had dreamt of, he merely focused on the beautiful angel that had fallen asleep in his arms last night. Yesterday had been a whirlwind of tumultuous emotions from the moment he first laid eyes on her until he left her tiny flat. Astonishing really, such mental drain it had taken. He didn’t think he had it in him to have another fight with her, no matter how arousing it had been.

He couldn’t stop his thoughts from wandering as to how she was fairing. Did her alarm go off? Did the vet call with and update of Bowser’s condition? He rushed through his beauty regime and quickly selected a salmon button up shirt and a soft gray set of slacks and jacket, donning a black tie and polished loafers. He’d made up his mind; he was going to drive to her place. Now.

……………..

She was fumbling with the key when Marshall stepped out of his apartment. He made no excuses, just coming up to greet her. He was just as concerned about Bowser as she was. He had Dinah in his arms, which he cuddled tightly in comfort. She thanked him again for taking her to the vet and finally got her key to turn over. She shook her right hand to make it stop tingling.

“Are you going to need a ride again today?” he asked.

“Actually no, my boss is going to take me when I need to go.”

“Charles?” Marshall said, surprised.

“Yeah. Don’t tell me you forgot who he is.” She laughed just a little, but something about his face tickled her Spidey-sense. She turned around and found Charles at the entrance of their floor. She let out a little squeak.

He strode over with panther like grace, emerging from the shadow the roof cast over the corridor. He stopped in front of her, taking a moment to appreciate her visage. She found herself looking up at him, held in that crystalline gaze, frozen in place. 

They both spoke at the same time, overlapping their greeting to each other.

Marshall immediately felt like a third wheel, feeling a whammy of tension between the two. “Ok gotta go.” He announced somewhat loudly and made his exit with the quivering dog in his arms.

“I wasn’t expecting you this early.” She stated.

“Honestly, I just decided on a whim.” He confessed. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.” 

“Course I am, after you made sure I was tucked in so sweetly.” She answered, seeing a blush creep up across his cheeks. She pulled her lips inward as she tried to not smile. It didn’t work though, the smile still snuck out.

“You’re going to be the death of me, looking at me like that.” He sighed, escorting her down the stairs. Once at his car, he opened her door and took her hand to help her ease into the seat and gather up her long skirt. He pressed a brief kiss to her hand before letting it go and closing her door. They pulled out of the parking space and off the complex grounds unaware that they an unintentional witness of their tryst.

…………………

When they arrived at work together, the office buzzed with life. Everyone who took one look at them went through a series of facial expressions in a microsecond when greeting them, before quickly darting away. Lucy removed her glasses, huffed on them and wiped them on her sleeve before setting them back in place. No, her eyes were not fooling her.

Charles and Sam looked like a couple, even dressing to match.

“Lucy, I need to call a staff meeting. Is there time for one within the hour?”

She looked at her computer screen. “As long as it isn’t too long, we could do one right away. We are pretty much booked for the rest of the day.”

“Good.” He said, grabbing mail out of the slot for him. “Send an emergency staff meet memo to everyone’s PC and have them in them in the conference room in five minutes.”

“Five minutes?” she echoed in shock. “What’s this about?”

“You’ll see; you’re attending too.”

Oh geez, why doesn’t that sound good?

He led a just as confused looking Sam away so she could do her task; hand on her lower back as they rounded the corner. Lucy just shook her head and said nothing. This getting out was not going to be on her.

Once in the conference room, Charles took the head of the table, and Sam came up to his left, taking the seat and pulling out her laptop. “What exactly are we having such a short notice meeting about?” She inquired, shifting her black frame glasses. 

“That will be momentarily addressed.” He replied as bodies began shuffling in. Everyone was curious and alert. They never rallied meetings this early, this sudden, and given how serious he looked, no one was going to question him either. Once the staff had gathered in and sat down, Charles cleared his throat.

“Thank you all for being so punctual.” He said by way of greeting. “Something came to my attention yesterday that I believe has flown under the radar for some time. Miss Young,” he turned to her suddenly, startling her with the unprepared attention. “Would you care to elaborate as to yesterday’s predicament?” 

The room watched her turn white with fright, eyes wide as saucers, and an unintelligible sound mewl from her partly opened mouth. She looked ready to faint and throw up. Charles immediately regretted putting her on the spot and without even thinking, he laid his hand over hers. “I’m sorry; I should’ve considered this would be difficult for you.” He turned to the rest of the room. “You’re all aware of her dog, Bowser?” 

Several heads bobbed and voices murmured various ways of saying yes.

“The poor fella got a hold of one of our microchips and ate it.”

An audible gasp filled the room.

“He’s currently at the veterinarian’s office and under surgical procedure to remove it. The magnitude of the situation is as grave as if were one of your children. While not part of our staff, it is still our families that we need to vigilante of. And so I am open up to suggestions as how to prevent this from happening again.”

A cacophony of bewilderment and concern arose; some even saying that they had noticed they’d accidently found a chip stuck on their clothing or on the floor of their home, completely unaware of how it got there. 

“And no one thought to bring it to my attention?” he demanded, arms crossed.

“Sorry my dude, I didn’t think it was a big deal.” Jacob replied. “It was a one-time thing.”

Charles bit the inside of his cheek. This was a serious issue. Not only at the risk of small children and animals, but it was company property in danger of being corrupted, copied, or lost.

“Excuse me Mr. Jones, but its time… Lucy stated nervously.

He nodded, knowing everyone had a tight schedule to adhere to for the day. “The meeting is adjourned for now, but keep this in the back of your mind. I want formative plans.” People immediately left their seats and began shuffling out. He turned to Sam, who had finally returned to normal. “Are you alright?” he asked in a low, soft tone.

She nodded. “You could’ve warned me.” She muttered, bottom lip stuck out in scowling pout. She pushed her chair back and stood. “Thank you for bringing awareness to it though.” She added in a kinder tone.

He smiled; unaware Umed had caught that look between them. Umed then glanced over at Lucy who had also seen the exchange and she made a curt ‘No’ with a sharp shake of her head and slipped out to head back to the front desk. After a lingering moment, Sam followed after her.

“Oi, a word?” Umed called to Charles before the man had a chance to grab his briefcase and depart. Charles responded to his call and leaned against the table. Umed closed the door. 

“What the Hell was that?” he bluntly burst out. “I saw that look Chuck.”

“I beg your pardon?” the Welshman replied, “What look?”

“You had your eyes glued on Sam like she was candy. And that whole hand holding thing? You know Mr. Young would kill you on the spot if he saw that.” 

His pale blue eyes darted to the side as he crossed his arms. “She was in distress over the situation; I was trying to reassure her.” Then his eyes darted back at Umed and narrowed. “And I was not ogling her like candy.” 

The chubby Indian laughed. “And I’m the Prince of England. She says she needs to leave for the day and you jump at the chance to drive her home, or has that conveniently slipped your mind?”

Umed was one of the last people he wanted to have this conversation with, given that he’d already seen too much of their distancing last week and called him out on it. “And you swiftly escorted her out of here yesterday before Dear Old Dad could object. Today you come in together and dress to match.”

Charles felt hot under his collar. “Pure coincidence. You’re grasping at straws creating this little fantasy.”

“Well, I’m not gonna lose my head over this. I’m not saying a thing to anyone.”

“There’s nothing TO say!” Charles exclaimed, almost at the end of his patience. 

Umed nodded. “Right. Exactly.” He made the zipper motion over his mouth. “I personally don’t care if you’re going down that road, that’s your ass. You just better be damn careful with her Chuck. I’d really like to not have to hate you if anything happened.”

And with that, Umed left. Charles ran a hand over his face in exasperation. Literally only one day had passed since he and Sam confessed their feelings and decided to become a couple and he was already getting lectured by an all too observant underling that could ruin him if he felt vindictive enough.

This was going to be a hell of a day.

Just a short while before noon, Samara’s phone rang. At her desk, she made sure the ringtone volume was up just for this occasion. She stopped clicking away at the keyboard and picked it up. Trying to steady her nerves, she braced herself for what the veterinarian had to say. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath so hard until she let out that sharp exhale when they said the surgery was successful and he faced no lingering risk, the chip had remained intact so no tiny particles were left to cause further damage. Tears welled up in her eyes as she tried suppressing her joy and listen to what the man had to say. When their call ended, the floodgate of emotion burst. She pulled a tissue and was furiously wiping at her eyes when Charles stepped in.

He thought the worst, seeing her breakdown and immediately came around her desk and wrapped her in a hug. “Annwyl, don’t cry.” He said, I’m sure they did all they could.”

She looked up at him. “They did. They got it. I’m just…so relieved.” She responded, voice cracking. 

“Oh thank God.” He sighed, stroking her hair. He was not prepared for her to lose her precious furbaby, not yet. “That is best thing I’ve heard all day.”

He held her a moment more until she had calmed down. “Would you like me to take you now or wait until after work?”

Samuel Young had just concluded a conference via Skype and was heading down the hall to see his daughter. Word had made its way to him that Bowser had ingested a YT chip and there had been an emergency staff meeting to discuss the situation. He appreciated the quick response his office had applied to rectifying and acknowledging the severity of it all. He had a crack team and if anyone find a solution, it’d be one of them.

He had rounded the corner when he heard the distinct accent of his welsh manager and the familiar shy voice of his daughter coming from her office. He always had regarded the man with an eye of skepticism, even before the incident with Jay’s girlfriend. He just had too much swagger and poise to not be a player. There was barely a woman not taken in by his looks and charm, and while it made sealing deals a cinch, it was a cause for alarm. If he wasn’t such an asset to the company, he’d have pink-slipped him years ago. 

But then he heard the man’s velvety voice and the blood drained from his face. He barged into the office to find the blond with HIS daughter wrapped in his arms, tears dotting her cheeks. They both jumped with a start, Charles immediately pulling his hands back, but Samuel saw what he saw. He rushed over and grabbed his daughter away from the charming blue-eyed snake and pulled her into his large chest, holding her to him.

“Just what the HELL are you doing with my daughter Jones?” he roared, shaking a fist just inches from his face. “I’ll have your head on my wall as a trophy if I ever hear such a proposition out of you again!”

“Dad!”

“Proposition?”

“I know what I heard! How’d you think you’d get away with doing something like that here?”

Samara struggled to escape her father’s protective hold, embarrassed and furious of his outlandish behavior. Charles had stood firmly, hands safely tucked back into his pockets, trying to make sense of Mr. Young’s latest outburst. He’d said nothing in the way of a sexual nature; the only thing he was guilty of was their brief comforting hug.

“DAD! Calm down!” She hollered, finally getting the man’s attention. “Charles was asking when I’d like to go to the vet to pick up Bowser, nothing else.” Mr. Young looked down at his daughter, who glared at him with a dark look he had never seen before. It rattled him so much that he loosened his hold. 

“But he was….”

“Hugging me? Oh heaven forbid anyone offer me comfort except other than you.” She pushed herself out of his embrace. “He thought Bowser didn’t make it, is it so hard to imagine I might need a hug from someone in a time like this?”

Smartly, Charles remained silent, watching this exchange. Samara continued her rant.

“I’m absolutely fed up with this #protect-baby-samara-at-all-costs mentality of yours. It’s smothering! Embarrassing! I’m pretty sure everyone a block away heard you raving about having his head. Thanks a lot for asking how I feel by the way, I’m fine, just my dog was practically on his deathbed but you’d rather worry about who I’m alone with for two whole minutes than consider I might want to have a minute alone with him.”

Charles watched with rapt entertainment as she had taken the “Power-Pose” he taught her, hands on her hips, chest out, chin up, fire in her eyes as she spoke clearly and was squarely rooted with her feet apart. He had forgone the exercise yesterday and today due to the situation about Bowser’s condition, but she was by far making up for it right now. The little kitten had become a tiger, and she was making herself heard. Her bear of a father had shrunk back, unclenched the fist he had threatened Charles with, and slump his shoulders low. “I’m…I’m sorry pumpkin…” he rasped out. “It’s just…” he trailed off, weakly pointing in Charles’s direction.

“Oh it’s his entire fault?” she snapped. “Like Jay’s ex-girlfriend didn’t cheat on him by fooling around with him? It’s not like Charles snatched her up and laughed in Jay’s face. She made that decision. And I think both you and Jay need to move from that now that he’s with Dr. Hadar.” 

Samuel shut his mouth into a hard thin line. When he tried to speak, Samara held her hand out in the ‘HALT’ position and continued. She was on a roll. “I personally do not care who he’s been with or what he’s done. What matters is how he treats ME. Ok dad? So stop trying to pry us apart or else I will quit my job.”

That last bit shocked both men. But Samara had never been good at bluffing, so they knew she meant it entirely. She’d never before threatened to quit, and only until she and Charles had lunch a few weeks ago had she finally spoken up about not wanting to become the next CEO of the company. 

Realizing that he had indeed pushed his daughter too far, Samuel admitted defeat. He nodded and straightened his posture, placing his hands behind his back. “Very well, pumpkin. You’ve made yourself very clear….I will try to exercise some restraint and respect your wishes.”

She crossed her arms and gave a curt nod. “Thank you. Now I want you to apologize.”

Confused, he held his hands out, palms upward. “I just did.”

“No, to him.” She indicated with a toss of her head. “He hasn’t done anything to me.”

Charles gave Samuel a look that conveyed the same way he was feeling. He hadn’t expected it and it was probably just as well to get it over with. But some requests could be too much. “Honey, I am not apologizing for being a protective father.”

“Then expect my resignation by Friday.” She answered firmly. She marched over to her door and held it open, even though it already was, it was a clear message: We’re done here.

Her father inhaled a deep breath. “Fine.” He gritted through his teeth. He shot a glance over at his manager. “I’m sorry.” He muttered quickly, shuffling his arms to cross over his chest in indignation. 

“Very well,” Charles replied smoothly. “I accept.”

It was childish, seeing the two men behave so. It might have been funny and caused her to laugh were she not so angered by her father’s brash behavior and concern for her beloved dog. She had put her foot down, and she was not letting up until she had made her point. Oddly, it felt a little exhilarating. This is what Charles had been helping her achieve, had he not? For her to speak up for herself and be heard, to show she could be a force to be reckoned with. To sound like, well, a boss.

“Thank you Dad. Now I’d like to get back to my work before needing to get Bowser at 3:00pm.” 

“I’ll see you then.” Charles announced, taking his leave with grace. He kept his face passive and calm, although he truly wanted to break into a wide grin. He was beginning to find that there would never be a dull day with his lovely little Samara at the helm. 

Samuel left with his tail tucked between his legs, more upset with himself than he was at his daughter’s outburst. She never had become so assertive before, so verbally aggressive, and he knew he had brought that out of her. It’s not like she had never complained of his overprotectiveness before, she just never had with such an effective punch. As much as he hated to admit it, she was absolutely correct. She was an adult now and it bothered him greatly to see her grow up.

It had to happen at some point.  
……………


	4. Babysitting Bowser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's 3:00pm and time for Samara to retrieve Bowser from the vet. Things get a little heated when Charles insists on paying the clinic bill and purchasing the medication. After finally cooling down on the ride home, they are greeted by Marshall & Monica at the door and discuss the situation regarding the dog, with them agreeing to be babysitters while Sam is at work. Afterwards, Monica suggests a double date for the weekend, opening a Pandora's Box between the new couple.

Clocking out at 3pm was by far more preferable than five o’clock, but it still put a spotlight on her. At least now though, everyone knew why and were perfectly fine with it, everyone telling her that they hoped and prayed Bowser recovered quickly. It warmed her heart to hear such kindness from everyone, even people whom she didn’t normally interact with on a daily basis.

Charles walked behind her, his hand hovering at her back to guide her along. He was becoming uncomfortably aware that some eyes were following them, what thoughts behind those eyes were rolling about, and if their mouths would follow. It’s not as if dating within the workplace was prohibited after all. It was practically legend, how Samuel Young, CEO had met and married his own receptionist and had a wonderful marriage with two beautiful children. So it wouldn’t be a firing offensive if he and Samara came out about their new budding relationship. He’d at least like some time before that though, but imaginations could spread gossip like wildfire.

He didn’t want Samara to end up lumped together with his previous paramours, and for those around to fill her head with doubt about him. Let her come to her own conclusions, just between the two of them, without the whole world against him.

They both let out a collective breath once inside his car. He had the radio on again, on a low volume, so he could hear the GPS directions on her phone, guiding them towards’ the veterinary clinic. Today they rode in comfortable silence, no need for jokes or reassuring words. Young Technologies was a hotbed of emotions they both wanted to leave behind.

The veterinarian’s office had that mix of antiseptic cleaning and animal funk, with distant barks and meows echoing down the colorful hallways. Even with these differences, it still reminded Sam all too much of a hospital and began to increase her anxiety. As if on cue, she felt that familiar large hand encase hers and give it a reassuring squeeze. They continued down the hall in silence, listening to the doctor describe the procedure with relish.

The man spoke in a mix of fascination of finding a computer chip in the dog, as well as concern and slight chastisement over letting such a little thing get where he could reach it. Before Charles could reprimand the doctor for his unprofessional behavior, he felt Samara squeeze his hand and when he looked at her, all she did was shake her head as if to tell him ‘No’. He gave her a nod in acquiescence.

Bowser was sleeping soundfully in the bottom half of a carrier, the top half set aside so they could keep observing him. He lay on his side, his usual snore music to Sam’s ears. She saw the large bandage patch on his belly and the little shaved spot on his leg where his IV had been. The nurse attached the top half of the carrier and secured all the latches before Charles took the handle on the top. 

He carried it back through the same hallway up to the main desk where the receptionist typed away at the computer. Sam began digging through her purse, hoping she would have enough to cover a minimal service fee and his medication when Charles slid his wallet out with ease and produced a credit card. 

“I can’t ask you to cover this.” She stated, immediately going red in the face.

“Well, that’s good, because you didn’t ask.” He replied, placing his card in the woman’s hand. “I’ll take care of it.”

“This isn’t like that lunch we had Charles, you brought me there fully intending to pay. This is my own problem.”

“No offense Samara, but I know you do not make enough to pay this bill in full, plus cover his medication. As your employer, I am fully aware of your annual salary.” Even though his words were kind, it still hurt to have it said out loud. Sam bit her lip and glanced off to the side in indignation as the transaction was completed. He picked up the carrier and headed to the front door, holding it open for her. Still sulking, she marched through, gripping her bag tightly.

For once, Samara was able to open her own door and get into the seat without Charles’s assistance, as he had taken the duty of securing the pet carrier in the backseat. He slid into the driver seat and cast a sideways glance at his passenger. “I am sorry if I wounded your pride Miss Young. The truth of the matter is though, that you were not financially capable of paying that bill without having to starve yourself for the next month.” She already skinny enough…

“Oh so now we’re back to ‘as your employer’ and Miss Young again?” she snapped. She glared out her window. “Must be nice to switch sides as you see fit.”

He threw his head back and gripped the steering wheel firmly. “That is not it at all and you should know that. I just didn’t want to use the… ‘B’ word… and make things complicated.”

Her head spun back to face him. “Complicated? You didn’t have to mention you were my employer in the first place! And ‘the B word’.” She said with air quotations, “You can’t even bring yourself to say in the privacy of your own car, can you?”

Angry welsh spewed forth as he continued looking ahead, trying to figure out just how exactly had he done wrong in the first place when anyone else would still be falling over themselves in gratitude. His little Bunty has a hard nut to crack.

“It’s like with my father, I can’t have any kind of independence around anyone. Everyone always feels the needs to step in for me and I hate it.”

“The hell like I was trying to deny your independence.” He spat, finally speaking English again. “You can consider it a gift if it makes you feel better but I was trying to be a nice boyfriend. There, I said it. Boyfriend. Are you happy now?” He shot a glance at her. “Hell, if you want, you can just mosey on into work tomorrow and announce to everyone who doesn’t already have an inkling that we’re together and see how long that lead balloon flies.”

Taken back, it took her a moment to process his words. “What?”

“Oh you heard me alright; apparently I was ogling you like candy according to Umed. Who took it upon himself to give me the fifth degree regarding you. I would’ve laughed it off were it not actually true.” He let out a breath, strummed his fingers along the steering wheel and sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

“Well I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I don’t have any experience with this kind of stuff. I’ve never had anyone outright do something like for me. If I wanted or needed anything and my family didn’t get it, then I did for myself.”

“Never been sent flowers, never been given a gift just because….I wouldn’t suppose this had anything to do with your father?”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Have you MET my father? He was the perfect anti-boy repellent. No one got close enough to try. Didn’t help that Jay was right there along with him, all through every school year I practically wore a sign that read ‘Jay’s sister: Do Not Touch’ and had a hard enough time with just keeping one as a work partner for a project.”

She looked back over her shoulder to see that Bowser was still sleeping soundly. Thank goodness. It’s not like she intended them to have another fight, but she really her patience tested from her altercation with her father earlier. Geez, it’s not like me to be so worked up about everything…and it’s not even that time of the month…

Before she knew it they were at her apartment and he was pulling into his usual spot. This time, Sam sat and let him come around to get her door, feeling that the argument had reached its end with their somewhat awkward apology to each other. She gathered her keys out of her bag and flexed her right hand as he pulled the pet carrier from the backseat. Ever since yesterday, it had been tender all over again, the healing skin breaking and releasing just the smallest amount of blood to the surface.

They hiked along the stairs in silence. She had the length of her skirt pulled up in her right hand, and her left holding the guardrail, supporting her through every step. Charles carried the dog container with one hand on top and one on the bottom as he walked in the center of the stairs. He knew his center of gravity and had no problem keeping himself upright whatsoever. She reached her door exhausted, struggling to turn her key again. Frustrated, she kicked the door and slumped against the wall as Charles approached.

At that moment, her neighbor door opened and a head with pink hair poked out. “Oh, it’s you!” she exclaimed. “I thought it was our door for a minute.” She came out, all smiles when she met up with Sam, then her face twisted into a somewhat displeased/amused smirk when she recognized the blond man with her.

“Sorry Monica, it’s been a stressful day.”

“I can see that.” The beauty vlogger replied; arms crossed. “How’s the pupper?”

“Resting well after his procedure.” Charles answered.

Monica shot him a look that said ‘did I ask you, pretty boy?’ and turned back to shout to Marshall. “Hey Sam’s back and Bowser is ok!” An instant later he was out through the door, joining the trio. He squatted low to look at the sleeping pooch and ‘awwwed’ like a kid. “So what happened to him?”

“He swallowed a computer chip from my work. I didn’t even know I brought it home.”

“OMG that’s terrible!” Monica exclaimed, hand at her massive chest. “That could’ve killed him.”

Sam nodded and bit her lip. “I know I asked you guys to give me a ride and all, but do you think you guys can watch him while I’m working tomorrow? If it’s not too much…”

“It’s not too much at all kiddo. We’d be happy to take care of him. You just tell us what he needs and it’ll be done. It’s the least I can do when you took care of Gamer Boy over here.” 

Marshall smiled and scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, I mean…I’d probably be dead if not for you two so totally.”

Charles noticed the heart monitor bracelet on the young man’s wrist, green light on. “How’s your recovery going?”

“Oh you know; get lots of rest, try yoga, eat better…that kind of thing.” He listed off with a laugh. The he stopped as if a lightbulb literally lit up above his head. “Hey Sam, is it alright with you if I make a video about this? Lots of gamers have pets and you wouldn’t believe the horror stories I’ve heard about controllers getting chewed up or computer towers being pissed on. I could bring some awareness to the younger crowd with all those little gadgets they’ve got all over the place.”

Sam stretched her mouth into a thin line. “Uhhhh.”

“Actually, that isn’t a bad idea.” Charles piped in. “Granted of course you keep her name and the company anonymous so as not to spark more backlash.” He looked reassuringly at Sam. “If he’s as influential as you say, his video could lead to some proper vigilance.”

“Ok, but just be careful about it.” She finally agreed.

“Deal.” Marshall said, sticking his hand out. She timidly stuck hers out.

“Beware of her injury.” Charles warned, before Marshall’s hand could clasp hers. Marshall pulled back for a second as she revealed her hand.

“Whoa, that’s a wicked cut. Fist bump?” he offered.

Sam nodded and curled her hand closed, bumped his fist and pulled back with that tiny explosion. Monica watched them and sighed. “Well if you two are done being geeks maybe we should get together and do a double date this weekend.”

“A what?” Sam and Charles replied in unison.

“Oh come, two hot couples like us four are sure to turns heads anywhere we go. And you two are so cute, dressing to match and all.”

Marshall immediately wished he had not mentioned what he saw earlier when Charles shot him a death glare.

“Sorry Monica, but if there’s a hot couple here, it’s you two.” Sam sighed, leaning on her door to open it. “I wouldn’t really fit in you know?”

Before he knew what was happening, Marshall felt his arms fill with a plastic pet carrier and Charles saying “Would you mind for a moment?” before he came upon Sam, sternly demanding “What did I say about you putting yourself down?” as he led her inside and closed the door behind him, leaving Monica and Marshall bewildered and intrigued as to what just transpired.

They stood in the corridor of the third floor, both in silence as they heard muffles and shuffling and a gasp. Something sounded like it fell on the floor and then there were little cries coming from Sam.

“Uhhh, babe? Should we call the police?”

“Shhh, there’s no need for that, he’s not beating her.”

“This is so wrong.” He said, wanting to set his ears on fire. He let his eyes wander on the boring gray details of the building structure as he heard Sam’s labored breathing and high pitched but muffled moan.

“Wow, she really caught herself a big fish.” Monica laughed.

A few more minutes passed before the door reopened, Charles in the doorway, jacket and tie removed, shirt unbuttoned. Sam was sitting on her kitchen counter, her skirt bunched up around her knees; his tie wrapped around one wrist, her blazer and satchel bag on the floor. Her face was flushed and hair tussled, glasses off. He looked entirely fine though. Pleased, even.

Charles mused at Marshall completely avoiding eye contact when handing over the pet carrier and Monica flashed Sam a wink. “We’ll consider the double date.” He purred before closing the door.

“I think I want to throw up.” Marshall whined, shuffling back to his apartment as his girlfriend just chuckled with delight and followed.

……………….


	5. Marshall the Dog Sitter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marshall takes on the task of babysitting poor Bowser, with Dinah for moral support. The whole day is full of surprizes as they start to bond. But that's not the only surprise he'll have in store for Sam when she comes to collect him after work. He hopes that what's he has planned will more than make up for what happened with Ruminate.  
>  Having Bowser back home is just one less thing for her to worry about though, as she asks Charles why he agreed to the double date. What starts out soft and gentle soon gets heated up as she starts testing boundaries.

After overhearing yesterday’s little encounter between her and Charles, Marshall was concerned, curious, and nauseated when she knocked on his door and had a drowsy looking Bowser in her arms. She looked completely fine though, as if whatever happened hadn’t happened. He welcomed her inside and had a little place all made up for his furry guest to rest in.

She placed him in the makeshift nest of a puppy blanket with a water bowl right by its side. Bowser looked up in concern; as if to ask his mom why she was bringing him here. Dinah walked up to him, gave him an allover sniff investigation and then curled up next to him to rest. Well, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad now that he had a cuddle buddy.

“The medication will make him drowsy, so he should be very docile today and not give you a hard time. He’s gotta be careful when going outside, the incision still needs to be covered so grass and dirt doesn’t touch it.” Sam instructed, handing Marshall a bottle of liquid medicine and a list of notes she wrote in case he forgot anything. “He has to have soft food only, add a tablespoon of the medicine and mix it in.” she pulled out a can of soft dog food. “And of course, if there’s a problem just call me. That’s my cell at the bottom.” She pointed at the paper as they took a seat on his couch.

Ever since having to call Monica to inform her that he’d been taken to the hospital, she had Monica’s number programmed in her phone. Even though Monica had wholeheartedly agreed to the babysitting, she wouldn’t be able to come in until the later afternoon, so the task lay with Marshall and Dinah.

“And thanks again, I mean it.” She added; her hand on his arm. 

“Ah come on, it’s no big deal Sam. I was a much more complicated patient to handle and you aced that with flying colors.” He patted her hand reassuringly. “I’ll shoot you a text so you’ll have my number and even give ya picture updates later on, ok?”

She smiled and started getting up to leave when his hand tightened on hers, keeping her in place. Worried, she sat back down without a word.

“Hey,” he started but trailed off. “I-I just want to know if you’re alright.”

She cocked her head to the side, trying to figure out what would make him think so when he continued again. “About yesterday…you and Charles…”

Oh. That.

Her face immediately turned red but she smiled. “Yeah…uh…He didn’t hurt me, if that’s what you’re thinking. I have this terrible habit…I’m working on it, but he said if I keep talking about myself like that…well, he’d break me of that by any means necessary.” 

Marshall nodded slowly. Monica had said something along those lines last night, but he had to make sure. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Charles-the man saved his life after all-but he always had an eye of suspicion regarding him after a significant change in his sister’s behavior. She had never come out and said it, but he figured those two had a fling that didn’t pan out. Who was in the wrong though, he couldn’t say.

“What about that cut?”

For some reason, he just couldn’t stop himself from asking. He’d never seen it before and now that he thought about it, he did recall her having a bandage.

“Cut it on some broken glass not too long ago. My own fault, wasn’t even looking when I did it.” She replied quickly. “I gotta go now or I’ll be late for the bus.” She stood up and blew a kiss to Bowser as she walked to his door. Marshall followed.

“Not having your personal chauffeur this morning?” he teased.

Sam laughed. “No.” she said, emphasizing the word heavily. “I really had to make my case with him that my morning commute is perfectly safe. It’s the afternoon one that I can’t convince him of.”

Marshall held the door open. “I think he has a strange way of showing how he cares.” He surmised. “Comes off a bit abrasive, but just as long as you feel safe with him, I guess I can’t complain.”

She shifted her satchel bag and smiled. “I appreciate the thought. Seems like everyone is looking out for me.” She readjusted her glasses. “I’ll see you later.” She said with a wave of her hand and putting some pep in her step to make up for the past few minutes of conversation. He watched her go for a second and slowly shut the door.

Seeing both the doggos curled up together as they were, he couldn’t resist but pull out his phone and take a picture. It was too cute. He immediately sent the picture to Monica, then picked up the paper and programmed Sam’s number so he could send it to her as well. He received texts back consisting of hearts and ‘so cute’ from both women. He had also messaged Vikki to let her know he was dog sitting so he couldn’t make it to her yoga class. It hadn’t occurred to him if Sam had informed her friends or not, so he figured she knew exactly which dog he meant. But he wasn’t going to skip his regime, so he pulled up a yoga tutorial for beginners video on YouTube and rolled out the little foam mat. 

A little bit of bending here, a little bit of holding that there…some stretching this way and leaning and he had worked up enough of a sweat to call for a break. These limber ass freaks made it look so easy. He guzzled some water and took a breath to steady his heart rate. A few minutes later, he was back to contorting himself into a human pretzel.

Lunch was another fantastic veggie burger, introduced to him by Sam’s friend Abe. Luckily the place Abe took him to last week delivered through GrubHub, so he need not leave the dogs or risk worsening Bowser’s injury. Of course, the arrival of food and seeing a human eat alerted both dogs to his presence and they begged for hand-outs.

“Who’s ready for soft puppy chow?” he asked, looking at Bowser. The Corgi/Boston Terrier mix wiggled his stump of a tail in anticipation. Marshall chuckled at the little happy dance and picked up the bottle of medicine, measured out a tablespoon, poured it on top of the brown mush that sloughed out of the can and mixed it all up. He set it down right in front of him and picked Dinah up to let Bowser have his meal in peace. He watched the spectacle with entertainment, sharing nibbles of his lunch with Dinah. Bowser made a mess of himself but devoured his meal with relish.

“Who’s a messy boy?” Marshall laughed, snapping another picture. He looked like a chipmunk with his cheeks filled puffed out. After dampening a dish towel and wiping him down, he carefully picked him up and pressed him to his chest. Bowser was too full to voice his opinion and leaned against him as Marshall gathered Dinah and headed out and down the stairs to the designated dog park. Careful of his bandage, he placed him on the ground and let him do his thing. It was good that Bowser seemed to be warming up to him, that Sam trusted him to care for the little guy, and as long as he didn’t get over excited around him they had an understanding with each other. The two canines did their wandering, sniffing, and little grass rolling in the ritual of doing ‘dog business’ before he gathered them up and carried them back up the stairs.

“Ok, video streaming time.” He said, cracking his knuckles and shifting into his chair. He had been giving this some thought as he went to live feed. Flipping on his Marshall Law personality, he plastered a smile on his face and greeted the camera with his usual introduction. “Ok, before I get into the stream, I wanna share something with you guys. And it’s not something to take lightly.” He picked up the camera and turned the lens to show Bowser, snoozing peacefully in his makeshift bed. “I’d like to introduce my little buddy Bowser here and as you can see, he has a major boo-boo.” 

He turned the camera back on himself and sat back at his desk. “Seems the guy still likes to chew, and he found a microchip on the floor and swallowed it up. I don’t have to tell ya of the dangers of even trying this on a dare, but dogs don’t know better and he needed surgery yesterday to remove it.”

Comments came flooding, heart emoji’s and crying faces flew up from the corner.

“Most of you guys out there are pretty good at keeping your gaming equipment out of reach, but kids, listen, ya never know what your dog is gonna take interest in.” He put on a serious face. “Your Legos, Roblox and other small do-dads are all dangerous to your precious furbaby. And surgery isn’t cheap, neither is the medication. That’s why I’m starting a Kickstarter for this guy to help a fellow human out. Top ten contributors will get a shout out in my next video! Alright guys, I’m feeling like kicking some Mario butt, so let’s get on with this video!”

The next couple of hours were a marathon of Super Mario games and pouring support from his fans. Probably all the same people who helped tank her rating on Indigineer too….What a way to make them pay. Literally. He watched the number climb higher and higher. Whether they truly cared for what happened to Bowser or just wanted the recognition in a shout-out, either way, the donations rolled in. 

Monica turned the key and her heels clicked on the linoleum of the kitchen as she entered. Dinah perked up and trotted over, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. Bowser was lying on his belly, watching Marshall play on the computer. She came up and landed a plump lipped kiss to his cheek as she slid his headphones off.

“Oh wow babe, you startled me.” He said, suddenly realizing what time it was. Luckily, it wasn’t enough to trigger his evil little heart monitor, Mortimer.

“How’s our ward?” she asked, dropping her purse down and snaking an arm around his neck.

“He’s been an absolute angel. Couldn’t ask for a better pup to watch over.” He glanced down at the boy and smiled. “He’s the bettest boy, isn’t he?” Marshall schmoozed in baby talk. Bowser wiggled his butt at the praise.

“Oh get a room you two.” She laughed.

Around 5:30pm Sam had come a knocking on their door to collect him. Monica answered and let her and Charles in, who remained in the foyer as Sam went over to the adorable scene of Marshall rubbing Bowser’s ear while sitting on the couch. It seems a day of being caretaker was enough to turn her dog around about him, but nothing replaced the pure joy on his face when he saw his momma. Marshall had to quickly hold him to prevent him from leaping off the couch.

He stood up and gracefully placed the black and white canine into her arms, who eagerly licked her face and whimpered in affection. “I can watch him again tomorrow if needed.”

“You would?”

“Of course. He’s my new buddy now, isn’t he?” Marshall said, rubbing noses with Bowser.

“Please take him; they’ve been like that since I got here.” Monica sighed, handing Sam the bottle of medication. Over in the foyer, Charles stifled his laughter.

Sam nodded and spun on her heel, coming up to meet Charles. He graciously opened the door for her and bid adieu to them both as he shut it. Monica sat beside her dog-crazy boyfriend and sighed. Finally, no more lovey-dovey baby talk between him and the pooch.

“Why didn’t you tell her about your video today?” she asked, snuggling against his arm.

“I want to give it another day, in case there are more donations. The last time I tried to give her money, she literally threw it in my face. Can’t say I didn’t deserve it then but I’m hoping second time’s the charm and she’ll be more receptive.”

“You didn’t even show her your drawing…” she added, indicating his sketchbook sitting off to the side.

“Yeah, well, I might wanna tweak it some more.” He answered with a shrug.

“Do you think she won’t like it?”

He shrugged.

“Don’t be like that babe, your art is good. You could be designing labels and logos or at least be taking commissions with that skill. It could be a way to expand on your brand.” Her hand rubbed soothingly on his arm and she sang his praises. It surprised her that someone with a magnificent skill would actually be afraid to show it to the world, especially when his face was over the internet and his gameplay didn’t always lead with a new high score.

“I’ll think about it.” He replied, quelling the subject for now.  
…………………………

Back inside his home, Bowser trotted around merrily until settling back into his own bed, paws wrapped lovingly around his little doll. Sam placed his medicine on the counter along with her satchel. She slipped out of her heeled shoes, hating to lose the little extra height they gave her, but her feet were aching. She swished her skirt and untucked her work blouse to get comfortable.

From behind, she felt Charles’s body as he wrapped his arms around her. Her head rolled to one side as he kissed her neck and enjoyed her scent. Ever since she had said she liked his cologne, he’d been trying to figure out just what hers was exactly. It was subtle and light, something that wouldn’t trigger the senses of an asthmatic, nothing as pungent or iconic as rose or lavender. That was acceptable to him, he loved the challenge it presented.

“He looks like he’s making a quick recovery. Though I wonder if you’re going to continue being as feisty as you’ve been once he’s at full health.” He chuckled.

“Don’t tell me you’ve actually liked it when I yelled at you and hit you the other day?” she asked.

He didn’t immediately answer. She turned around, breaking his embrace on her. He had his mischievous smirk on his face again. “There’s a fine line between rough play and abuse, between letting passion take over and downright brawling. You and I both knew the moment you struck me that you regretted it. It’s not the first time I’ve been slapped by a passionate woman.” He leaned his face closer to hers. “There is something incredibly arousing about it.” He whispered seductively, watching her face bloom red.

“Don’t think that it’s going to work every time though. I don’t take kindly to being mistreated.”

“I wouldn’t.” she insisted, eyes wide with concern. She gently touched his cheek, noting the slight flinch in his eye as she did. “Oh my g-does it still hurt?”

“Does your hand?” he countered, covering her hand with his own.

“Mmm-hmm.” She melted under his gaze. “Why did you agree to their double date?”

“As there’s no use in trying to deny it from them, I have considered that it might help you feel more comfortable with the idea of being with me.”

Her heart thundered fiercely. She was certain he could feel it, given that there was no space between them. That annoying little tremor that gave her away was sneaking its way back out again despite her trying to mentally shut it down. He was too perceptive, sensing it just as it started. He let go of her hand and secured her waist, hoisting her up to her kitchen countertop once again.

She immediately hunched, pressed her knees together and held her breath. Without a word, he placed a palm on each of her knees, pushing them apart so he could stand flush against her. She felt one hand then come up behind her neck, massaging the tension away, letting her calm down slowly, feeling her breathing return to normal.

This gentle side of him was surprising, given the abrupt punishment he’d handed to her the day before. She felt like a cat getting the best backrub of its life, releasing all her tension and anxiety and inhibitions. He could get her to confess to anything right now. The softness in which he kissed her, caressed her, was stirring the same tingles in her just as he done when licking her shirt and grazing her with his teeth. She felt like her body rested on a fluffy cloud rather than a linoleum countertop. 

Words from yesterday played in her head:

‘What matter is how he treats Me, ok dad?’

‘Comes off a bit abrasive, but just as long as you feel safe with him, I guess I can’t complain’

‘I want to be the best for you. But you are taking a damaged man into your heart’

“Charles.” She moaned, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. Her legs wrapped around his, locking him in place. He made no action to stop her. The way she whispered his name struck a chord inside, wrapping around his heart with a blazing hot lasso. She wanted him. And he knew it.

“Easy Bunty.” He whispered against her skin, “I know what I’m doing to you. And I know what you want me to do to you.” His feather-like touch was like electricity and fire and delicate summer raindrops all at once. She had pulled his body into her entirely, not an inch of space, just two layers of clothing. Her lips sought him out, her fingers trying to undo his buttons. He was awakening a deep seated reaction that had lain dormant, a void within her begging to be filled.

When she had shifted her hips to grind against him, that’s when he knew.

The little breath that escaped her, almost soundless was a note he knew well. Her thighs were quivering so much that he could feel the vibrations up his spine. She’d given up on his buttons, hands reaching up his neck and grabbing fistfuls of his blond hair. In the blink of an eye, she’d gone from timid to adventurous; her teeth claiming his bottom lip and one hand sliding back down his neck, nails bared.

He hissed as his shoulders shifted, her nails like hot irons. “Ahh,” he uttered, relishing in the way it felt, but more so that she was doing it of her own violation. She thrusted herself against his manhood, wanting to feel it touch that tender wet spot that was driving her mad. “Young lady…” he growled, losing his gentile touch and grabbing a fistful of her own hair, pulling back so she arched up. Her throat exposed, chest heaving, he unbuttoned the front of her shirt one-handed until her shapely breasts revealed themselves. Her hands had let go of their prey and grabbed the countertop to support herself. Where the line had been crossed, she didn’t know, but they weren’t touching each other gently now. She wanted to scratch him though she couldn’t say why. Somehow, it wasn’t even bothering her that he had a grip on her hair or that he forced her head back, she wanted him to see her body, touch it.

Needing no permission, he ran his hand over her breast, and then plucked it right out of her bra. The nipple was hard, rosy, and yet still so soft under his thumb as he dragged his fingernail across it. Her sharp intake of breath was the response. He lifted her head back up so she could face him, his eyes blazing with desire. His thumb pressed it inward, watched it pop back out before flicking his tongue across it.

“God!” she hissed, jerking under that cold, wet touch.

He chuckled devilishly. His teeth grazed the nipple gently, sending those fantastic jolts through her. She was whimpering incoherently and still using her legs to pull his body into her, feeling the friction between their legs.

Despite his desire to strip her fully naked and taste every inch of her, he was aware that he was losing his own resolve. This was not where or how he wanted to take her first time, so he needed to end it quickly. With her lust awakened, it would only be a matter of time before he would have her. “Let’s see what you can handle.” He said, his hand sliding up her thigh, under her skirt. To his surprise, she lifted the hem up and pulled it back. “Oh you’re being naughty…” he purred with barely contained, red-eyed lust. He let go of her hair only to clasp his long fingers along her neck, thumb pressing the tender flesh of her throat. Her pulse was steady, although elevated, her heartbeat a fast paced drum. She wasn’t fighting against anything he was doing, whether due from her primal urges overriding or that she was unaware and curious as to what he do next, she was clearly giving herself to him.

“Aren’t you the least bit afraid Bunty?” he asked, his finger touching her wet center and watching her shudder.

She just shook her head no.

“I don’t believe you.” He teased; sliding it inside her and watching her eyes roll back. “You know you can’t lie to me.” He created a rhythm, trying to stay in tune to her breaths. “Maybe that’s why you’re refusing to speak?” He began speeding up, both of them reaching their limits in different ways. “And here I thought I was going easy on you.” 

He thrust a little hard, eliciting that telltale gasp of ecstasy. “But then you wanted play rough.” Again he thrust. “And while I do love giving a lady what she wants…” he slowed to an absurd rate and enjoyed her frustration of it, “We.” He thrust deep. “Must.” And again. “Be.” Again. “Patient.” He finished with that last word, sending her into her first orgasm. 

He withdrew and caught her as her body shuddered and went limp. He carefully laid her back on her elbows so her head wouldn’t end up in the sink. Once he was certain she wasn’t going to roll off, he took out his handkerchief and wiped his hand on it before leaning over her. “Are you breathing alright?” he inquired, placing a hand gently on her chest.

“I…could…use…inhaler.” She whispered between heavy breaths.

“Of course.” He replied, sitting her upright and picking up the satchel bag. It was right in the front pocket for easy access. He handed it to her and as she took a puff, he got a glass of water and held it until she regained control. The water was refreshing in more than one way. She felt it douse the fire that lit up from within. It was then that she tucked her breast back into the bra cup and pulled her knees together, her modesty back in full force.

She tried scooting herself off the counter when he rushed over to stop her. “Whoa there, you’re not going to be able to stand just yet.” When she gave him an inquisitive look he chuckled. “Trust me; I know what I just put you through.” Her face flushed a beautiful rosy hue and he brought the edges of her blouse together, buttoning up a few of the buttons. “Didn’t I say we were going to take our time with this?” he asked softly, almost like a parent with an unruly child. 

“I-I don’t know what came over me…” she confessed, at a loss for her actions.

“Don’t be ashamed annwyl; I rather enjoyed that side of you.” He flashed his mischievous grin that she knew too well. “I didn’t know under such an innocent exterior there laid the heart of a wanton little harlot. I guess what they say is true…beware of the quiet ones.” He placed a kiss to her temple.

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t just hear you call me that.” She replied with air of sarcasm. Then she tried sliding off the counter again but he stopped her. “Oh come on!” she cried.

“Please, allow me.” He requested, holding his hand out. She took it as his other hand secured her hip. The moment her feet touched the floor she wavered and sank, her legs like rubber. She expected to hear an ‘I told you so’ but he said nothing as he helped her to her feet and began leading her to her bathroom. “A soothing hot bath is just what you need now.” He stated, having her sit on the toilet seat lid. He turned on the water and drew the plug so the water would start to fill. 

He stood and looked at her beauty products. He spotted some Japanese Cherry Blossom bubble bath and flicked the lid, pouring a stream in. Its pleasant floral scent wafted up around them. It was then that he knelt in front of her and began unbuttoning her blouse. Startled, she brought her hands up.

“Unless you’re so vestal that you bathe in your clothing, you’re going to need to undress.” He teased, continuing his task until the shirt slid off her shoulders. Her hands immediately covered her breasts. Surprisingly, he went for her skirt next, finding the zipper line and giving it a tug. “I cannot stay much longer, I have a fencing lesson to attend to, so please allow me to assist you here.”

“If you like, I can always turn my back.” He offered. She bit her lip and nodded. “As you wish.” He sighed, spinning 180 degrees away from her. She undid the clasp of her bra, and tossed it aside. He saw it soar and land out of the corner of his eye. She stood, wobbled, and then got her bearings enough to slide her undies down. Her hands reached out for his back to support her, which he allowed. He grabbed the towel hanging on the rack and unfurled it. He held it out for her to take and wrap around herself. He turned around and helped her step into the tub, the hot water a shock to her at first, but soon welcome.

She loosened her hold on the towel and he held it as a curtain for her modesty as she sank into the bubble bath with a pleasured sigh. He didn’t mind playing to her shyness, knowing it would only be a matter of time until she didn’t mind giving him a peep show. He turned the water off and set the towel back on the rack. “Is there anything you need before I go?”

She sat with her knees up, pressing her breasts under the water and hidden from sight. “If you could find my glasses…” she said, not even sure when they fell off and where they landed. He knew the importance of them; after all, he wore glasses himself. She wished she could see him in them more often.

He left without a word and returned with them a moment later, placing them on the sink counter. “Bowser is resting just fine.” He informed her, washing his hands at the sink. “Get some rest my dear, and be glad that tomorrow is Friday.” After drying his palms he leaned over and placed a kiss to the top of her head.

“Goodnight Charles.” She called to him as he made his departure. A smile rested on her lips as the memory of what they had just done replayed in her mind. She would definitely be having sweet dreams tonight.  
………………………..


	6. Pre-date Jitters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Friday and all day Sam has been on the edge of freaking out. The Double Date looming overhead is almost too much to bear. And she knows she's not doing a very good job at hiding it. The anxiety builds to a crescendo on the ride home and she blurts out a significant secret that she's been holding onto. What is Charles going to think about that?

All day long, Sam had tried her best to remain normal and calm when around anybody. Especially Charles. He took one look at her and knew that she was instantly thinking about him and what he had done to her the previous two days. She couldn’t meet his eye, her face immediately beet red. Rather than tease her about it, he’d pretended he saw nothing and left her to her work.

As long as she was busy she was fine.

It was a blessing that no one approached her about what they assumed was happening between her and her boss. Because heaven forbid if they were wrong and they said something, that would be embarrassing! But even if they were correct, it’s not like they could say anything that he hadn’t already divulged to her. 

Her father had also given her peace today, thank goodness. All she had to do was keep to herself, in her office, and be productive by herself and there would be no problem. With the looming double date invitation set for tomorrow night looming over her head, she was a hotbed of nerves. Everyone seemed to sense that she was under some kind of pressure, figuring it was due to Bowser’s condition and nothing more.

The only time she had made small talk was with Lucy during lunch. The girls sat at their own table, their food and drink set out neatly. Sam though, wasn’t feeling up to eating and picked at hers. Lucy knew something was up. “Is this about Bowser?” she asked kindly.

Knowing she was bad at lying, Sam merely nodded. There was no way in hell she was going to admit to being terrified at the thought of a double date with her boss and neighbor.

“Even if it isn’t, you could still talk with me.” She offered.

Sam just took a bite of her sandwich in order to not have to respond. Lucy got the message loud and clear. It was not yet the time to speak of whatever it was. They nibbled and drank in relative silence. The receptionist just hoped that whatever it may be, that it resolved itself quickly. She had grown to like the more confident Sam and didn’t want the mysterious burden to make her revert back.

When five o’clock approached Sam had a cold sweat down her back. She knew that Charles would insist on taking her home again and there’d be no escaping his sharp observations. He would know she was on edge. So while thrilled to be leaving the confines of the office and escaping those smothering walls, she knew she was headed homeward bound in yet another enclosure she couldn’t escape.

She had kept herself at as much of a distance as she could when they left, no one none the wiser that she now carpooled with him every evening. Alone in the elevator, heading down to the parking garage, she quivered despite Charles making no notice of her anxiety. When the doors parted he held his briefcase up to block them from sliding back, signaling for her to exit first.

As usual, he opened the passenger door, assisted her to sit, and gently closed it. When he revved the engine his radio came on with soft classical instrumental melodies and he smoothly exited the vehicle from the lot. Sam was becoming more on edge with his silence. He didn’t look mad, in fact, he was humming along to the classical piece. “Whatever is on your mind, dear, just go ahead.” He said softly, eyes on the road.

Ah damn it. He knew.

She groaned through her teeth. “I’m so transparent….” She sighed.

“For now.” He replied.

She shifted her glasses. “I’m nervous about the date tomorrow. I still can’t believe you agreed to it. I have no idea what to wear, or where we’re going or what they wanna do and how I’m supposed to act-“

“Breathe Bunty.” He ordered.

She inhaled deeply and let it out quickly, her nose flaring and chest heaving until she had calmed some. “I was already nervous enough going out to dinner with you. Adding in two more people? Now it’s doubled…or quadrupled…I don’t know anymore.”

“Do you want to cancel?”

“Yes! No!” she threw her head back. “Ugh….”

“You know I won’t allow anything to happen to you. If you feel uncomfortable, then you only have to say.”

He noticed her tremors were harder now; she was in the hold on anxiety. “Samara, please tell me so I know what to do.”

“I USED TO HAVE A CRUSH ON MARSHALL!” she blurted out, startling the man so much he almost swerved into the other lane. Luckily there was not a vehicle nearby. Then she started rambling. “Back when I used to watch his videos all the time, and his hair was long. We would message each other frequently and he inspired and encouraged me when I struggled making Ruminate. He gave me wonderful advice; we had become friends in a way. And now it just feels weird because I’m with you. But I also got jealous of Monica back when I thought I had a chance with Link, I thought she was flirting with him at the dog park and I couldn’t take it. I mean she’s beautiful and tall and I just feel like I’m trying too hard at everything-“

She stopped suddenly when she realized he had pulled off the road and into the parking lot of a shopping center, shifting the park gear in place quickly and turning to her. He cradled her face within his hands and forced her to look at him.

“Samara, love, you must stop.” He ordered, breathing slowly so she would follow his lead. “I do not want you to have an attack over this.”

Her eyes were wet, her face red, but her body was starting to slowly stop trembling.

“It matters not to me who you previously admired or even still do. Everyone is allowed to have a crush on a celebrity. I have nothing to be jealous of, if that’s what you’re worried about. I know you have eyes only for me.”

Her shaky hands reached up and rested on his chest.

“And you have nothing to be jealous of when it comes to her either. Yes, she may be beautiful and tall, but she is with him and they adore each other. And she likes you, or else she wouldn’t have invited you-” He stopped himself. “Us.” He corrected. “To be with them tomorrow.”

One hand let go of her face to wipe away a tear. “She may be what men fantasize about, but that is only on the surface. I don’t know her like I know you. And what I know of you, I love. I know there’s only more to come.”

She bit her lip, eyes big and adorable as she pondered over his words.

“You have no idea how adorable you are.” He smiled. “I find your traits far more endearing than buxom pink haired lass who actually terrifies me just a little. You should’ve seen her when she stormed into the hospital. Absolutely ferocious.”

The idea of Monica scaring Charles was too funny to not release a tiny giggle over. Afterwards, she couldn’t help but smile. “She scares me too so I guess we’re even.”

“See?” he cooed, bringing her lips to meet his. “Nothing to worry about.” He felt his heart swell with a heated rush, that euphoric wave which was comforting as well as terrifying. Was it too soon to be feeling like this with her? Already he found himself envisioning a future with her, not so far as to imagine what children they could possibly have, but just the idea that they would be together. 

“Is there anything else weighing on your conscience that you’d like tell me? Considering what I’ve told you about myself, I don’t suppose there’s anything more you could say that would shock me.”

“I just wanna go home and curl up in bed.” She laughed weakly. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

He kissed her again. “Me either Bunty.” He confessed. “I barely could concentrate during the lesson.” Her face flushed, knowing exactly why. They parted from their embrace and shifted back into their seats, him taking the wheel and taking them away from the parking place. Now that she was calm the atmosphere in the vehicle was bearable. It became serene after a few moments of the classical music emitting from the radio. The ride was quiet and over before they knew it.

Out of the car, he pulled her close and swung his arm around her. There was no point in trying to hide their relationship here, other than Marshall and Monica, no one knew him from any other random bloke. This wasn’t like at the office, where their titles already separated them in status. Where gossip mongers would sneak up and whisper their dirty little secrets. Where a disapproving father could shoot daggers at him in the hall. This was where he could behave as her boyfriend, and treat her as his girlfriend.

Together they marched up the stairs and over to her door. She pulled her key out but he placed his hand over hers. “Before we go retrieve Bowser, tell me honestly, do you want to cancel the date?” he asked, leaning down to speak in a low tone. “If you like, I can over and speak with them.”

Knowing that he was giving her the option to back out, no questions asked, warmed her heart. She felt so happy to have someone that took the time to understand her feelings. And if he promised that he’d let nothing happen to her, he was going to keep his word. She shook her head, saying “That won’t be necessary. I’ll go.”

His hand trailed own to caress her cheek, holding her chin to turn up to meet his eye. She cast her eyes downward, not yet ready to do so. She could feel the little threat of a tremor, all she wanted to do was get inside and change into comfortable clothes, not have another conversation about this.

But he didn’t want a conversation.

Her back met the door as he leaned his frame down into her and gracefully held her chin, his mouth on top of hers once again, his other hand braced against the door. He wanted her to feel safe, cherished, treasured. Whatever she wanted, he would see to it.

“You two really are terrible at keeping a low profile.” A sultry female voice declared with amusement, breaking their kiss immediately. They startled, turning to see who addressed them.

She stood with her arms crossed, gold earrings glinting, pink hair styled on top of her head. Her hip stuck out, drawing attention to the slit in her skirt. “I find it adorable really.” She smiled. “If only Marshall and I could be so lucky.”

“Oh…uh…” Sam fought for something to say.

“Do we need to keep Bowser a little longer?” Monica smirked.

“That won’t be necessary Miss McKenzie.” Charles answered smoothly. “We were just finishing here.”

An eyebrow arched. ‘Not from where I’m standing’ she thought.

Sam managed to open her door and nearly fell into it. Charles turned around to make sure she was alright. “You go ahead and get changed, I’ll go collect him.” She nodded and slipped inside her apartment.

“You’re such a softie.” Monica said once Sam’s door closed. “I saw that look.” He straightened his tie and smoothed his hair coming up to follow her to neighboring complex. Her bottom fit snugly into her skirt, catching his eye for only a brief second before he averted his gaze. Yes, she had the body type he was fond of, but not much else.

“I do hope you’ve considered Samara’s asthma when choosing tomorrow’s activities.” He said as he entered the apartment. “There can’t be any cigarette smoke within fifty feet or I simply cannot agree to take her.”

“Easy there lover boy.” She sighed, picking up Bowser from Marshall’s arms and turning to face him. “I’m not gonna endanger your precious doll. Though I can doll her up for ya, if you like.” She added with a wink.

Marshall sighed, “I told you babe, she doesn’t need a makeover.” 

Charles scratched Bowser’s back for a moment. “If she agrees to it.” He said to both their surprise. “If you’ll excuse me now.” He gave them a nod and made a graceful exit.

“There more I’m around that man, the less I feel like I know him.” Marshall stated.  
…………………..


	7. Double Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a whirlwind of a day, starting off with Monica barging in with an arsenal of products and tools to get Sam all prepped for the date. Hours of hair, nails, and wardrobe torture are in store for the overwhelmed girl, but she prevails. Texts blow up her phone when her friends find out from the slip-up Marshall revealed when getting coffee. Oh heck.  
> It's a great bonding time for the girls as Monica explains how she came to be, and educates Sam on the allure of a good set of lingerie. Sam can only hope that going through all this is worth it. Is Charles going to like what he sees? Will this double date be a big hit or a big loss?

SATURDAY, 12:30pm

A loud, brisk knock on her apartment door roused her from her noon sleep. Sam jolted with a start and stumbled out of bed and to her door, only to find a perky Monica and a tote bag on her arm. “Enough beauty sleep kiddo, we’ve got work to do!” she announced happily.

“Whuh?”

“You are getting the full Glitz Kitten glam-up treatment before our date tonight.”

“But that’s like, seven hours away….”

“Yes, and I’m gonna need every one of them.” She said, pulling products out of her bag. “Strip and shower Missy.” She ordered, placing two bottles in her hands, spinning her in the direction of her bathroom, and smacking her bottom to get her moving.

Sam yipped like a startled puppy and did as she was told. Didn’t matter that she had a soothing bubble bath yesterday, Monica insisted that she use the shampoo and conditioner for volumizing and hydration. When her shower was over and she was clad in nothing but her bathrobe, Monica pulled out her bar stool chair and promptly ordered her to sit. There was a box of muffins from The Daily Grind as well as two steaming covered cups of coffee that hadn’t been there before.

“I had Marshall run to your favorite little haunt and pick you up some goodies.” She said, pulling out combs, curlers, and scissors.

Sam took a sip of her drink, just the way she liked it. Marshall must’ve told them to make her usual. She held onto the cup for dear life as Monica began combing through and pat drying her hair, then rolling it up in curlers. She pulled her around and straightened her bangs, only to gently snip them even. “If you’re going to have fringe bangs, at least have then sharp and even. It’ll make you look more professional.”

“Ok, eat that muffin because I’mma need your face next.”

“Maw fafe?” Sam parroted with a mouthful of muffin. What did this woman have in store for her?

Before she knew it, her face was slathered in cold green cream and her hands were laying flat against the bar counter top, an array of what looked like torture devices and several bottles of nail polish set beside her shaking hands. Monica had gently picked up a hand to examine it.

“Well, for a gamer, I can at least say you take care of them. You wouldn’t believe how many chew their nails and have such bad cuticles.” She went about filing, trimming, and layering on nude bottom coat and clear top coat. “We’ll decide what color we want after we pick your outfit.”

Sam felt dizzy with the acrid scent from the little bottles and coughed, trying not to breathe in the chemical smell. Before she could say anything, a little electronic fan was pulled out of her tote like Mary Poppin’s carpet bag and placed so it would blow the scent away. “Your overprotective boyfriend made it loud and clear that your asthma was priority. Though I don’t blame you, some of these do smell god awful.”

Leave it to Charles to ensure her health above all else. She’d never had someone outside of her family be so attentive to her needs. She licked her lips, carefully so as not to ingest the facial mask of muck on her face. “What made you get into this business?” she asked.

The pink haired woman laughed for a second. “Did you think I sprang forth from the womb looking this fabulous Oh no, kiddo, I was a hot mess for years. Had my own ‘Ugly Duckling’ beginning in life.” She pulled out a hair curler, flat iron, spray bottle, and a handful of combs.

“What?” Sam was shocked. Monica an ugly duckling?

“Not everyone is born with A class looks, some of us have to make it ourselves.” Monica sighed. “I found out long ago that beauty meant more to people than the bonds of blood.” She handed Sam a moist towelette to start wiping her face clean.

“My natural hair color is strawberry blonde, if you wanna call it that. But there was nothing strawberry about it. Looked like nasty straw that sat out in the rain for three days, hideous no matter how often I washed it. Didn’t help that I had a grandmother who always called it ‘dirty dishwater’ blonde and compared me to my cousin Lana who was the epitome of perfection in her eyes.”

Her tone had turned into a snarl, the memory too bitter to not be angered in the slightest, even after all these years. The wedge it drove ran too deep to be so callous about it. But in an instant, it was replaced by another of Monica’s usual smiles and lighter tone of voice as she continued.

“I began experimenting early with color. Dying my hair every month, trying new hairstyles, hats, hair clips you name it. I was known for being a chameleon in school. Had this lanky ass body that I didn’t know what to do with so at first I hid it with baggy clothes, and that worked while it was in vogue for a while. Then came the trend of mid drift tops and tight jeans and I had found myself getting sooo much attention.”

She took another damp towel and started cleaning the edge of Sam’s forehead. “Boys and girls soon flocked to me. I was giving advice before I realized it. Everyone wanted a piece of me. Turns out I knew just what to look for when it came to others, just not myself. I still hadn’t found my ground yet. Boyfriends, girlfriends….life was a buffet and I was sampling a little bit of everything.” 

Once her face was clean, Sam relished in the freedom her skin felt, like a butterfly breaking free from the cocoon. She forcibly yawned and popped her jaw around and wrinkled her nose just to get the feeling back. Monica took hold of her chin and tilted her head up, checking to see if they had cleared it all away. “Lucky for you, you’ve got amazing skin already so you won’t need to do masks so much. But exfoliating while showering is key.”

The she stood up and went to work removing the curlers. “Being disliked for being an ugly kid got me prepared for the haters I’d receive as a beauty guru. But it all rolls off my back now.”

Sam couldn’t believe the tale Monica weaved. She’d have never guessed with the confidence and swagger the vlogger exuded that she’d been mistreated so.

Monica began combing and wrapping hair around the iron. “I mean, women take one look at me and think I’m gonna steal their man.” She snorted with a laugh. “You know what I say to that? If I can easily snatch him, then so can the next bimbo and he wasn’t worth keeping in the first place.”

Immediately, that day in the dog park flashed in Sam’s mind. It wasn’t that she thought Monica was trying to take Link away-especially after she had mentioned Marshall having a sensitive heart-but just the way she had handled him had awakened a little green eyed monster within for a brief moment.

“Monica…” she said, breaking her silence. “I wanna say I’m sorry.”

“For what kiddo?”

Sam’s shoulders shifted with unease. “Well, I did…have a moment…” she trailed off.

Monica stopped brushing and laid her hands on Sam’s shoulders. “You don’t have to apologize kiddo; you didn’t know me that well. There’s no hard feelings now, is there?”

“I still feel bad about it though.” She replied back in a sullen tone.

“Ah ah ah, none of that doll. Or do I need to call a certain blond pretty boy over here to deal with that?” Monica teased, feeling Sam’s back straighten like a rod. Monica snickered. “Yeah, don’t think I don’t know what he’s trying to do.”

“I-I don’t know what you mean….”

Monica tsked. “You’re terrible at lying kiddo. Even from back here I can see it on your face.” She didn’t have to look at Sam to know the girl was blushing fiercely, sweating bullets, and trying to play cool. Samara Young reminded her too much of herself from all those years ago, lost and confused about what herself and what she wanted in life. Only back then, there had been no helping hand for her. Given that Sam had so many insecurities, she was all too willing to step in and guide her.

“Too many women attack each other for being pretty, for being ugly, for being anything that they see in themselves and don’t like. Rather than feed that toxic behavior, I see to it that fledgling little ducks like you grow into the swans you’re meant to be.” She worked more on her hair. “Didn’t you ever do this with your mom? I mean, she’s drop dead gorgeous and even I had magazine cut-outs of her in my fashion notebook.”

Oh wow, Monica looks up to even my mom? Sam thought to herself. I guess even an idol needs an idol… “Well, I was sick too much. I spent more time in the hospital than I did at home for a while. I couldn’t get involved with putting on perfume or nail polish with my asthma not yet under control. She would give me lots of her clothes…but…well…I couldn’t fill them out…” she admitted sheepishly.

“Well that little green thing I convinced you to wear sure showed everyone what you’ve been hiding, didn’t it?”

Sam tried to nod, but her hair was firmly held in well-manicured hands. “Ah yeah…I guess it did.” She recalled how Charles complimented her on it before their conversation turned into such a complicated mess and then she scurried home at the quickest opportunity. It probably wouldn’t have mattered what she wore to work that day, the conversation would’ve still followed the same track, he just kept prodding and she spilled the tea.

“Ack!” Sam uttered as she felt tiny strand being pulled back into thin braids. “What are you doing?”

“Relax doll, I’m just opening your face up a bit more with some side braids. You won’t be hiding under that Velma Dinkley mop tonight.” She declared, bringing the braids to meet in the back of Sam’s head. “I’m gonna make sure he can’t keep his eyes off you.”

“Is this really necessary?” Sam rolled her eyes. She was pretty sure Charles would like her to be comfortable rather than gussied up.

After hair came the wardrobe. Monica startled Sam by pulling out multiple bras from the tote bag in various colors. “What does underwear have to do with what I’m wearing over it?”

“Oh honey.” She tsked, “You have a lot to learn.”

She spent the next hour as an unwilling underwear model, trying on bra after bra-along with matching undies. Somehow, Monica knew her size and most of the bras fit well. As she slipped on straps and snapped closures Monica informed her that her underwear would speak volumes as to her intentions for the rest of the night. How certain colors would invoke certain moods. As she listened, her mind went back to when she and Charles were at her door and he took that strap from her, gliding his fingers across her skin as he slid it in place. A shiver ran through just thinking about that moment felt, how it had kept her up all night.

Sam didn’t own anything in other than white or beige, although with panties she’d buy a multi-pack and would have an array of colors or patterns. Underwear was just underwear, right? Not according to Monica, who was so bold to slip down the hem of her snug leggings to show Sam her brightly colored bikini style underwear. It was all in the cut, she said. How much ass it covered-or didn’t.

After settling with a pastel pink set, which they both agreed wasn’t too much or too little and nothing so bold that Sam was uncomfortable with, Monica pulled her by the hand back to her bedroom and opened the closet. “Ok, let’s see what we have to work with. I have some things of my own that I don’t wear anymore that I can give ya so you can build up on your wardrobe.” She said, flinging hangers aside by the handful.

Sam took this moment to sit on her bed and finally pick up her phone-finding her message inbox brimming with unanswered texts. Several from her friends. As she clicked the first message it had become clear: when Marshall had gone into The Daily Grind in the morning he had let slip that she was getting a makeover by his girlfriend and Bowser was sick and that they were on a double date tonight.

“Oh Heck.” She groaned, the amount of frustrated concern from her friends drowning her inbox. “Hold on Monica, I gotta respond to a few of these before an angry mob shows up at my door.” She stood up and headed back into her kitchen, texting in a group chat that would include everyone at once. She also needed to open a can of dog food and distribute medicine to Bowser.

GROUP TEXT:  
‘Yes, Bowser got sick from eating a microchip which required surgery. He just got home the other day and is well on recovery but cannot be handled much due to the stitches. I wanted to tell you all when I was sure he was ok. As for the date, yes, it’s true. Don’t ask just yet. I’m trying out something.’

It was easier to lie when you didn’t have to verbally say anything.

Her phone immediately started pinging back.

ANGELA: what da HELL do U mean? Don’t ask? Who da fuck is it?

VIKKI: I think it’s wonderful that you’re finally putting yourself out there

OLIVIA: do you need a pocket knife? Pepper spray? Taser gun?

DEE: yasss gurl, bout time!

LINK: who are you going with? Are you sure you’re going to be alright? Do you know where you’re going? Do they know how bad your asthma is? Would you like me to come along in case anything happens?

Sam let out a little smile. ‘Yeah, this is exactly why I haven’t said anything to any of them yet. Just wait til they find out that it’s my boss…’

SAM: I don’t need a weapon. I don’t know where we’re going. Yes, they’re very aware of my asthma and no, none of you can tag along. I have to go now.

She ignored the following protests and was almost ready to turn her phone off when there was a text from Charles. Feeling her heart skip a beat, she opened the message.

CHARLES: Is Monica treating you well?

What? How did he know what was going on? Did she tell him she was gonna do this? Did he agree to let her do this?

“Come on back kiddo, I’ve got some choices laid out.” She heard Monica call.

“Just a second, feeding Bowser.” She hollered back, setting the soft mush in a bowl and nearly dropping it on the floor. Bowser didn’t care, free food was free food.

SAM: I’m her Guinea pig. Whatever happens to me is your fault

CHARLES: Am I going to be slapped again?

She could just hear him chuckle with devilish delight.

SAM: you keep that smug attitude up and I just might

CHARLES: I’ll be sure to keep that in mind

She headed back into her bedroom, smiling like an idiot at her phone until Monica snatched it away. “Ah ah ah,” she admonished, “No pre-date flirting. Even though that’s a good sign, means he can’t wait to see you.” She gleamed, tossing the phone onto the bed and holding up outfit number one.  
…………………..

The hour had arrived. Monica had first showed off her pet project to Marshall, whose response was a wide eyed, mouth open, thumbs up seal of approval. He was in a jersey and cargo pants, Monica in a backless turtleneck top and a tight skirt. They both were in her living room, each giving their opinion on Sam’s new look. Ms. Whipple had taken both dogs to babysit that night, made aware of Bowser’s condition and absolutely adoring the bug-eyed companion that was joining them.

When the knock sounded at the door, Sam felt ready to faint. She started heading towards the door when Monica stopped her and pulled her back, motioning to her boyfriend to do it. She wanted to make a show of bringing Sam out to present to Charles and hid her in the dim hallway.

Charles was taken by surprise when Marshall answered the door, but recovered with his quick wit. “I was unaware that you two switched apartments.” He laughed to cover how it unsettled him that there was a man-even someone like this goofball-at his girlfriend’s apartment as he stepped into the foyer. Monica caught his eye and was bearing a pleased-as-all-get-out smile on her face.

“I hope you like sweets,” she purred in a voice leading up to a finale, “Because you’re gonna have some wonderful arm candy.” And when she stepped aside, he felt the air rush out of his lungs.

Sam timidly stepped forward into the light like an angelic vision. He noticed everything at once, his eyes raking up and down several times. It was hard to just focus on one particular aspect, until she moved a nervous hand up to adjust her glasses. His eyes followed and rested on her face.

Monica had done well, he had to admit. Perhaps too well. 

Her chestnut brown hair had thin wavy curls, two braids pulling back more hair that she was known to hide under, giving him a true view of her face. Under those familiar black frame glasses he noticed light purple eyeshadow, glittered, of course. Her lips had been painted with a glossy, rosy pink that looked absolutely delicious. 

Adorning her body was a light pink dress with a multi-colored skirt. The mix of pastels suited her soft features. Even on her feet, there were light pink buckled shoes with a thick heel. Nothing she should wobble in. The heels were outdated, more than likely something given to her by her mother years ago.

“My my.” He whispered, unwilling to blink or else he might lose sight of this beautiful little lady before him. He felt dressed down yet again, with a simple collared short sleeve button up shirt of powder blue with a front pocket over a pair of chocolate colored slacks. He then adjusted his glasses and smiled. “I do believe she is.”

Monica beamed with pride, shooting Marshall a glance. He had to agree, the makeover worked. Although, he really felt weird with how Sam and Charles were just starring at each other. “So guys, the date?” he asked, breaking the ice.

“Of course.” Charles replied, snapping out of it for a moment. He offered his hand to Samara and tucked her arm within his own. It was every bit as sappy and romantic as a scene from a teen romance movie. Like he was escorting her to prom. Marshall held the door open as they passed right by him without so much as a glance. Monica followed suit, grabbing both their purses off the kitchen counter. Marshall turned the lock on the door and closed it behind them, apparently the only one bothering to pay attention to that detail.

Monica was brimming with delight as she watched Charles escort Sam, open his door for her and help her sit, and close the door after her. No wonder Sam was crazy about him; the guy was an absolute BABE. She handed him Sam’s forgotten purse, a tiny thing that only held her inhaler, wallet, phone and house key. “Your princess forgot this. Don’t worry, we locked up.” She added reassuringly. “You just follow us, ok?”

Charles slipped into his seat and started the engine, this time, the vehicle remained quiet. He backed up and got in line right after Monica’s car, hoping she had chosen her location wisely. Samara clutched her little purse tightly, nervously, but breathing steady. Everything that Monica told her today had settled most of her pre-date jitters, but now that she was alone with Charles, she had a whole new set.

“So…..” she said, then stopped.

“La, Ti, that brings us back to Doh…” he chimed into the melody of Do-Re-Mi. Then he chuckled. “Sorry, old habit from my grammar school days.”

“I must say,” he confessed a moment later, “That I had my doubts regarding Miss McKenzie’s talents. It appears I owe her an apology.”

“You like it?” Samara asked in a tiny voice.

“Annwyl, I am just wondering how many men I’m going to have to fight tonight, because you look stunning.”

Samara beamed, her face blushing to match her dress. Just the fact that he even mentioned getting into a fight over her was enough to alleviate her stress. Was she really as pretty as he claimed?

He continued following in tow and pulled into a parking spot a few spaces over when they arrived. When he offered his hand again to Sam, that’s when he noticed her painted nails. ‘How cute’ he thought, seeing that they matched the soft pink top of her dress. Monica had found a color theme and ran with it. They met up with their counterparts and stopped at the entrance. Charles and Sam had never been to what the Hipsters were calling a “Barcade” so Marshall filled them in that it was a bar and an arcade in one, but for adults.

At the door, the only one who was carded was Sam. While she figured it was going to happen, she tried playing it off that it didn’t bother her, even just a little. But she was the shortest of the quartet, and dressed like she was, she figured her look was still a little teenagerish. This is why she normally didn’t wear pink. It made her feel and look so juvenile, but Monica had pumped up her confidence with praise and color palette charts to show just how well it went with her skin and features. And seeing the way Charles reacted was worth all the hours of torture.

They entered and were immediately taken in with the bright lights and loud music, it wasn’t as overwhelming as a nightclub, but it had more energy than a standard pub. It was pretty well organized too, the bar side from the arcade side with a dance floor in between and lounge area for drinks. And watching whatever game that was streaming on the big screen. It was enough to accommodate both the introvert and the extroverts. 

“Ok, so guys,” Monica announced to the group, “There’s pool, darts, foosball, air hockey, DDR, and a fuckton of little dollar games, not to mention a claw machine and some other stuff that I haven’t bothered with so let’s play!”

She led the way, having the crowd part as she got into the thick of it. Her swagger and stature just made people stand aside so as not to be stepped on. She was not one to make a detour, she was a snowplow. Marshall was a step behind, giving the occasional wave to someone who yelled out in recognition and trying to act like it was no big deal that he just so happened to be out with the hot beauty vlogger. Charles had his arm wrapped protectively around Sam’s waist so she wouldn’t be lost in the crowd or bumped by someone not willing to make room for her.

“You’re not going to insist on paying for everything, are you?” she asked, holding tightly to her the strap of her purse.

“It is gentlemanly to pay the way; however, I will not stop you from paying for whatever game you want to play. I would at least like to take care of dinner and drinks.”

“Fair deal.” She said, wondering just how long it would take her to go broke with all the cool games beckoning for her to play. She was thinking how much fun it would be to bring her guild here until she remembered that this was a 21+ establishment since they served alcohol. Olivia and Dallas wouldn’t be able to come. Well, maybe she could just have a gamer girl’s night out with Vikki and Angela…

She smirked to herself, recalling all their texts from earlier and how they ranged from blasé congratulations to downright bodyguard mode. Although she had to wonder how Olivia would be able to procure a Taser gun…

They took turns milling about, playing a few games here and there. Marshall and her went toe-to-toe in some Mortal Kombat, ending in a draw because they each won an even amount of fights. Charles picked up one of the guns from a shooter game and did fairly well but didn’t make it on the scoreboard. “I’m much better with a sword.” He mused.

Monica gained an audience with her moves on the DDR platform, wowing both men and women with her grace and sashay. Sam cheered her on, secretly wishing she had the endurance to play. She felt Charles lean in low to speak into her ear. “Now only if this offered a waltz, I could show you how to dance.”

“That wouldn’t exactly be as thrilling as this though.”

“Oh you think?” he responded with feigned surprise. “All forms of dance produce endorphins and create a feeling of euphoria and decrease stress. There are asthmatic dancers out there Samara, it’s not entirely impossible.”

She took a moment to ponder that as they headed over to the bar side where pool tables were spaced a good six feet away from each other. Marshall started setting the billiard balls and suggested a team play, but Monica declined, catching her breath and sipping a cup of water. Sam had never played so she wanted to see it done. She watched as Marshall flipped a quarter and called heads, only for it to land on tails. Charles would break.

Her eyes fixated on his form as he tested out the weight of the pool stick, holding it like he would his rapier, getting the feel for its balance. Once satisfied he leaned over the green covered table and rested the stick against the crook of his thumb, sliding it back and forth to get a feel for the wood. His eyes were concentrated, the white cue ball in his sights, and in the blink of an eye, there was a loud crack, and balls scattered across the field into all directions, three landing in separate holes.

The ladies watched in amusement as Charles pretty much dominated the table and made short work of Marshall, who called for a rematch. Charles obliged, finding his own personal amusement at besting the younger man. Monica ordered herself a Long Island Iced Tea and Sam a cherry Coke when an employee passed by and asked if they needed anything. She leaned over to whisper to Sam, “I didn’t know he had any other look than being a stiff in a suit. Gotta say this casual side is kinda hot too.”

Sam silently agreed, thinking she actually liked it more. Then again, for the past year, she’d only seen Charles in nothing less than his 3 piece suit and tie business mogul look. And while women all around agreed that a man in a suit was sexy, and it certainly accentuated his form, when he put that side of himself away it most certainly felt special. Monica’s whole ‘get you a man who can do both’ statement did indeed apply.

In Sam’s analytical eye, she saw the table as a 3D platform, her dark eyes drawing an imaginary line from the cue to the target ball and calculating its trajectory from the angle as the stick struck it. She began predicting which way the ball would go in her mind, even though the men would call out which hole they were aiming for, as per the rules of the game. Sinking the 8 ball before the other solids would result in a loss, making it the king of the board. All other balls were fair game as long as you sunk your color first. It surprised her, when the guys pulled some trick shots, making the cue jump or spin in the opposite rotation from where she expected.

With her eyes glued to the game, she hadn’t realized she had taken Monica’s drink and several sips. “Oh this is good.” She said, turning to her.

“Oh they’re great. Go ahead and finish that one, I’ll just order another.”

Sam gladly sipped away. The match ended with a close call, but Charles still the victor. “Ok let’s do teams!” Sam jumped up with enthusiasm. “I wanna give this a try.”

“Boys vs girls or couples?” Marshall asked. Monica snuck up alongside him. “As if you’d stand a chance against me. Let’s have Charles show her a thing or two.” Marshall shrugged with indifference, the game was sure to be a win in his favor since Charles would be carrying his team.

“Let her have a few practice strokes first.” He suggested, handing a lighter cue stick to her. She tried testing its balance and accidently smacked him behind the ear, almost knocking his glasses off. Marshall and Monica failed at holding back their laughter. Charles rubbed the side of his head and just smiled at Sam before taking hold of the cue.

“Sure thing bro, I’mma get a drink while she uses you for target practice.” He laughed as he headed to the bar and ordered a Pepsi. With his medication and regime, it was not wise to ingest any alcohol.

Monica watched with barely contained amusement as Sam leaned against the table, on her tippy toes and tried to break before Charles had to guide her form. Standing behind her, his hands over hers, he showed her how to hold the cue butt and aim. Then his hands went to her hips and he had her bend low, his form leaning over hers. He told her that with her smaller frame she needed to use the length of the stick to reach for her, rather than someone like him with longer arms.

“Breathe steady. Inhale. Exhale…” he instructed as he moved her arm. “Feel the movement of your arm as you breathe. You want to exhale when you make your strike.” She nodded, eyes focusing one the little white ball. “You want to hit with enough force to break the cluster, so don’t throw your entire weight into it. Keep your feet firmly set in place.”

Sam inhaled slowly, steady. Her target locked. She exhaled and thrust her right arm ahead, the stick an extension. It connected with the white ball with a soft crack and reverberated through the others until the shockwave blasted them away from their core. They didn’t go as far when he did it on his own, but they nonetheless traveled. In joy, she bounced up and down, almost smacking him again with the ferrule. Luckily he had quick reflexes to dodge it. Monica nearly spat out her drink. Charles had her try out a few more strokes, telling her to aim for a certain ball. Even though she didn’t have a lot of strength to her shots, they were on target.

“Not bad at all Bunty. You seem to be a natural at this.”

“Are we ready for teams now?” Monica asked, picking up her stick. Charles reset the billiards and she took the helm with her break. Samara saw the moves like that in chess: move this piece here, clear the board of that one, protect your 8 until it was time. Charles would often help her form, but he let her push the cue stick on her own, watching as she gained strength with each strike.

Monica delivered powerful and solid hitting shots as Marshall often played with trick shots and offense tactics like setting a block that Charles would often have to deal with rather than making a shot on his own. Sam saw their tag-team offense and countered with her own efforts. It came down to the last ball, between her and Monica.

“Ok kiddo, show me what you got.” The pink haired vixen teased, biting a cherry off its stem and rolling it around her tongue. But Sam wasn’t falling for the intimidation, not with some alcohol running in her veins. She shifted her glasses and inhaled deeply, knowing that if she missed the mark, the game would more than likely be over. She was kinda glad Monica had styled her hair away from her face; she had nothing to interfere with her vision. 

She leaned along the side of the pool table, aiming across to the corner pocket, her stance wide and body low. The ferrule was snug between her forefinger and thumb to balance as she steadied her breath, then released. There was solid crack as the cue connected to the 8 ball, which sent it rolling straight into the corner pocket, unfortunately followed right by the cue.

“Aww man.” She sighed. Too much force.

“Not bad, not bad.” Monica said with a graceful clap. “I have to hand it to ya, that was good for a first timer.”

“I can’t I almost lost to a noob!” Marshall cried, throwing his head back. “Ugh, you two still won though. Charles had the first two games.”

“I say that calls for a drink.” He piped up, taking his and Sam’s sticks and setting the butts back into the rack. “Let someone else have the table now.” 

“Sounds like a plan, Sam and I will pick out a table.” Marshall said, as Monica was heading to the bar to make another order. Charles went up beside her, claiming that a lady should never have to approach the bar alone. Luckily a table opened up and they snagged it quickly, sliding into the bar seats. “You having fun?” he asked.

“I sure am! Oh my goodness to think I’ve missed out on this!” She giggled. 

“Yeah, this seems like a place I’d have pegged you for knowing.” He said, feeling now might be the time he needed to say what he wanted to say. “Hey Sam, that video I made Thursday really took off. I had lots of support from the fans.”

“Really?” her eyes gleamed brightly.

“Yeah, so much in fact that they wanted to help. They donated some money to help with Bowser’s med bills. He really tugged their heartstrings.”

She smiled, knowing her furbaby was a darn cutie. “That’s nice, but Charles already took care of it. He insisted really.”

“Well, if you want, you can pay him back with this and keep the rest.” He said, handing her a check. “Don’t freak out ok? Please. Just let me do this.”

He placed the slip of paper in her hand and closed it. He looked at her with pleading puppy eyes. “Consider it payback for Ruminate. Use the rest to continue with Evermake. I don’t want to be the reason that you didn’t succeed.” 

She nodded, feeling the sincerity of his words, knowing he still was weighed with guilt. The argument she had with Charles replayed in her head, giving her more to consider. Sometimes, people wanted to do good, just because. She shifted her gaze over to where their significant others were ordering their drinks, and saw a guy touch Monica’s back. Her eyes widened as Charles snatched the man’s wrist and bent it back with a snake-like strike, just as Monica turned around to throw her drink in the man’s face.

Her gasp caused Marshall to follow her stare and only saw the splash of a drink and other patrons clapping and laughing. The bartender ordered that the man leave after the jeering died down, and he did, cradling his wrist and a death glare on his face. He went right back to fixing Monica another, no charge.

“Another one bites the dust.” He laughed, twirling his Pepsi in between his hands.

“Aren’t you worried about her?”

He rolled his head around. “Course I am, but I have to act cool. We’re still on the downlow. I can’t be seen making a scene over something that she can clearly handle on her own.”

Oh yeah, their high profile ViewTube status complicated the publicity of their relationship. He had to act like he wasn’t bothered, like he wasn’t her boyfriend. No wonder Monica had said she wished she and him could be so lucky to show affection for each other in public. Maybe that was why she had even invited them along in the first place, to give her and Marshall a chance to actually be out….

The approach of their partners suddenly shifted her out of her thoughts, and she stuffed the check into her purse without looking at it. Monica’s hands held drinks for the both of them, while Charles held a pint of beer for himself, his other hand unhindered in case he needed to strike another handsy drunk.

“Any trouble?” Marshall asked.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle. Here ya go kiddo; I had him add a touch of cherry to it.” She said, handing her another Long Island Ice Tea. Sam gladly accepted and took a long sip. “We ordered some wings and fries, they’ll be up soon.” Then she turned to Charles. “Hey, why do you guys call fries chips?” thus beginning a well-educated conversation on the difference between chips and crisps, cookies and biscuits.

Their “dinner” arrived, hot and delicious and included moist towelettes to clean their hands afterwards. Sam was apprehensive about getting her brand new manicure messed up until she watched Monica literally skewer a fry with one of her talon like nails. After seeing that, there wasn’t really much room to fuss. While Marshall ended up with the messiest face, Charles had left neatly picked bones in the basket. Even though Marshall had known about his talent of fencing, he didn’t know much else about the Welshman and asked him about his hobbies.

“Oh you didn’t know? I also played Ruminate.” He responded with a sly smile. “I even unlocked the secret ending.”

“What?” he reeled back, shocked. “Secret ending?” He turned to Sam. “Dude, is he for real?” She nodded while chewing her last wing. He spun back on the blond. “You gotta tell me what you did!”

“Absolutely not.” Charles stated flatly. “That is for you to discover on your own.”

“Oh come on man.”

“What kind of top ranking game streamer would you be if I told you how it was done?” Charles smoothly teased, just pinching Marshall’s ego by the littlest bit.

“Low blow dude.”

Monica finished her drink and perked up once she heard the current playing song. “Oooh Sam, come on!” She exclaimed, pulling her out of her chair and out to the dancefloor. Sam only slightly dragged her feet, but was feeling the energy of Monica’s mojo and went without much struggle.

“Oh don’t you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me. I said you’re holding back, she said shut up and dance with me!” Monica sang in rhythm to the song. She took the role of the male lead, swinging Sam and twirling her, even so much as dipping her back so quick that Sam had to hold onto her glasses.

Charles had his eyes set on the girls, his little Bunty his sole focus. Even though she was a little wooden, she at least was having fun, laughing along and trying to keep her feet steady. Marshall was tapping his knee to the beat, enjoying his lady move like she did. “You stare at her like a wolf dude.” He said.

“I know.” He responded firmly. He was well aware of his possessive…protective glare. They weren’t the only men watching them.

“Are you serious about her?” Marshall ventured, figuring this was as good a time as any to ask.

“Are you implying I’m not?”

“No man, I just know that you have a way with women.” Marshall inhaled. “Eva never said it, but I figured…”

“What she and I had was not what I have with Samara.” Charles set his jaw. “And that chapter has been closed for a while.”

“I’m just wanting to make sure, ok?” God this was an awkward conversation. “She’s a nice kid.”

“She is not a kid Benjamin. I would not be with her otherwise.” Charles turned his head. “Your concern is appreciated. I would like to trust that you’ll be keeping a watchful eye out on her in my absence.”

Marshall nodded with a hand over his heart. “As my next door neighbor and soup provider, I will definitely keep an eye out for you.”

“You have my gratitude. Here they come.” He shifted his glasses.

The girls slid back up to their table, both sweaty and out of breath, reaching for drinks. Charles picked up Sam’s little purse and set it on the table for her to pull out her inhaler. She took a quick puff and a few steady breaths to follow. “I’m ok.” She insisted, even though she was quite pink in the face.

“I say that’s probably enough dancing for the night, best not to overdo it.”

Sam nodded, exhaling one last breath.

“You were great babe.” Marshall said with a longing look. All he could do was place his hand over hers for a brief moment and give it a little squeeze.

“Would it be so terrible for your reputations to just admit the truth?” Charles asked, curious as to why a power couple in the online entertainment industry would need to keep a low profile. Not when it was he and his underling that truly needed to keep it hidden.

“It’s complicated.” They both replied.

Indeed it would appear so. He pressed no further. 

After a while he took notice that Samara was slightly unsteady on her feet, her hand motions looser and her cheeks a permanent pink. She was buzzed to say the least. After she finished her last drink he scooted the glass aside. “I think it’s time for last call.” He’d not had another beer for well over an hour and even he might test positive for a breath test, but he knew he was still fit to drive.

Sam was struggling with her latest arcade game, in something that should’ve been relatively easy for her to win. He knew that it was time to take her home. He found it slightly difficult to pull her away from the game, she insisted on just one more time. “Bunty, you’re not going to win with how inebriated you are.”

“Oh I’m fine, I got this.” She waved him off with a sloppy wiggle of her fingers. He inhaled slowly and rolled his eyes. With his arms crossed, he stood and pondered the best way to get her out without making a scene. Luckily, his answer came to him in the form of a pink haired beauty vlogger. She pulled him aside a few feet and told him: “Go head to your car, I’ll get her up and bring her to you.”

He arched a brow.

“It’ll be easier for me to convince her to help look for you if you’re not brooding in the corner where she can see.”

He took one last look at her, totally fixated on her game and realized she had a point. He gave Monica a curt nod and made his departure. Monica waited until he was completely out of sight, and then signaled Marshall over. “Cinderella needs to get going now, how bout you?”

“I could stay a while and shoot the breeze with some of the guys. Make it look casual.” He replied. She nodded. They couldn’t be seen leaving together by themselves. “Give me a text in an hour and we’ll meet.” She instructed, and then patted Sam’s shoulder gently. “Hey doll, where’s your boyfriend?”

Curious, Sam looked around, not seeing the blond Welsh anywhere. “I don’t know, maybe the bathroom?”

“I already had Marshall look there. Come on, help me find him.” She urged as she pulled her arm. Without fail, Sam had instantly followed her word, holding onto her purse and moving her head side to side. She didn’t even question when Monica led her outside or all the way to a familiar black vehicle. Monica opened the passenger door and helped the little brunette inside.

“Goodnight you two!” she called as the car disappeared into the night. She slipped back inside to take some selfies and post to her account. With a good review, this place would see an influx of more customers hype up her fan base.  
…………………

Samara tilted her head back and sighed. “Wow that was fun.”

“Indeed.” He said, gripping the steering wheel. How she had managed to sneak in so much alcohol while under his nose was beyond him, he had barely taken his eyes off her. He was certain she had been drinking cherry cokes for the most part. He chided himself for his lax observation. “I’m sorry dear, could you say that again?” he asked.

“I said I’m feeling a little hungry, can we stop by somewhere?”

“Of course Bunty.” Was his immediate reply, pulling into the nearest fast food drive thru lane and recited her order to the speaker box. He handed her the brown paper bag and she went to chowing down on the chicken sandwich, fries, and washing it down with a Sprite. She wiped her face and sighed with content as he continued to drive.

“It was nice seeing you play.” She said, smoothing her skirt. “I like when you’re having fun.”

He did have to admit, it had been an excruciating long time since he last was in an arcade, let alone played a game involving others. The days of D&D were a distant memory, the chess matches, the college poker nights with fellow colleagues…He’d been a solitary player since, well…since leaving Wales. Hearing her say that tugged at his heart, reminding him just how lonely he was. She was reaching in so deeply into his locked up heart, prying the boards off the windows and letting in the sunlight.

“I want to go back there so badly now!” she gushed. “I gotta bring my friends along next time though. They’d love it.” She flashed him a genuine smile. “Maybe even have you come too so they can meet you.” Then a lightbulb popped over her head. “Oh, I bet everyone has been blowing up my phone!” she cried, pulling the device out and flicking through her message inbox. Having food in her stomach was starting to sober her up, her hands were steady.

She started giggling so much she began to snort. Whatever her friends had sent had her in stitches. He couldn’t help but feel a little tickle hearing her chortle. “Oh I’m in so much trouble….” She wheezed in between laughs. “They are going nuts….”

“Your friends knew about tonight?” he asked.

She nodded. “Marshall went to get coffee at The Daily Grind and told my friend Dee that I was getting a makeover for our double date and well….news travels fast.”

Charles rolled his eyes. Of course it was that loose tongued idiot.

He pulled into the apartment complex lot and killed the engine. He was at her door and helping her to her feet in a moment, making sure her skirt didn’t get caught as he closed the door. Whether it was due to the alcohol or her unfamiliarity with the shoes, she wobbled. His arm went around her waist as he walked her to the stairwell. He sized up the tower of steps and inhaled. She wasn’t going to be able to walk up to the third floor. “Samara darling, hold onto me.” He ordered, scooping her legs up.

She let out a little surprised laugh but held on as ordered as he carried her all the way up to her apartment door. It wasn’t all that surprising that he had the strength to do so. Not like she was too much of a burden in addition to that. She hadn’t been carried like this since she was a little girl, her father taking her upstairs to tuck into bed. Her head rested against his chest, reveling in this feeling. “Such a gentleman…” she murmured.

‘No, not entirely.’ He thought. He tried to be so in most situations, but there was just as much of a rapscallion in him that wouldn’t think twice about instigating trouble. Unfortunately he hadn’t decided which side of him would prevail with her. She brought out both aspects in him simultaneously. A constant battle wrestled just beneath the surface of his cool exterior. When he arrived at her door he still held her, worried if setting her down even for a moment was wise.

“Oooh, let me unlock it.” She announced, producing the key from her purse, clearly enjoying this special treatment. “I’ve never been carried all the way up to here before.” 

“Now that I can believe.” He agreed, stepping across the threshold and setting her on the kitchen countertop. Her legs dangled off the edge as she sat up and watched him return to close and lock her door. 

“I’m beginning to think you like me on my countertop.” She teased with a playful wink. He was not prepared for the little jolt it sent through him, regardless if it was true. He sauntered up to her, placing his hands on the counter at either side of her. “Perhaps Bunty…” he grinned. They stared each other down, the stand-off only making the tension grow with each agonizing second. 

Who was going to make the first move?  
……………………


	8. Battle of Wit & Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Charles are alone in her apartment after their date and the tension is high, the temptation is palpable.

Sitting on her kitchen counter, Sam stared into the crystalline blue eyes of Charles Jones. There he was, in his light blue button up shirt and chocolate colored slacks, eyes glinting behind the lens of his glasses, his hair draped loosely over one eye, just close enough that she could smell his cologne. They had a wonderful date, filled with fun and mingling. Everything tonight night had been so new: the makeover, the pool game, the dancing…

But why was he staring at her like that?

Not wanting to seem intimidated, she set her sight on him and didn’t waver. He was still such a mystery, despite what things he had shared about himself. So what would make a man that had been so hurt, suddenly want to try again? She hadn’t said or done anything special, hell, she slapped him just days ago! And then, everything changed….

Her heart was pounding in her ears, surely loud enough for him to hear as well. Things had gotten a little heated yesterday, right in the very same spot they were in, right now. And there is was, that darn heat in her cheeks creeping, giving away her embarrassment. Ah heck….

A smile slowly spread across his face, seeing that blush of hers. She was thinking of something, but what? However good he was at reading her emotionally, a psychic he was not. Although, he had a pretty good feeling…

“Are you just going to stare at me all night?” she quipped, trying to recover from her own embarrassment.

“I might. I like what I see.”

She shifted her shoulders to release some of the tension. “Well stop already. I’m not used to that.”

“I’m sorry but that I cannot do.” He replied, closing just a little more space between them. “Not when I finally have you all to myself.”

She arched her back a little, sitting up straighter and tilted her chin up. It wasn’t easy, this posture, but she wasn’t going to let him intimidate her. Bunting her horns, as he would put it.

“Am I making you nervous?” he tilted his head down just a little, so that his gaze was lower, but not yet even with hers.

She nodded. 

“Silent again?” he chuckled. “Then that must mean you want to lie to me, doesn’t it?”

She shook her head in denial, or agreement? Wait, which was it? She couldn’t very well say she wanted to lie without it being the truth because then that would mean she DID want to lie in the first place. But if she denied everything, then that would also be a lie-which would make it the truth…..How was she supposed to answer this one?

ERROR 404

“Oh Bunty, don’t overthink it, that question is a paradox.” He spoke with absolute glee. “No answer you could say wouldn’t contradict yourself.” Normally, this is when he would reach for some hair to move aside so he could see her face, give him a reason to touch her ear, her cheek, but her hair was still perfectly pulled back and gave him no such opportunity. He took notice of the subtle shading in the eyeshadow; it faded from pink to purple. My goodness, the woman didn’t miss a thing.

“What are you looking for?” she pondered, this rigidly position playing hell with her back.

“To be honest…” he slowly replied, “an opening.” And then finding it, right there, as she looked at him with perplexed eyes. He gently grasped the center of her glasses and slid them right off her ears. Her lips parted in protest, but were silenced when he met them with his own. One hand slid up to the nape of her neck, the other grasped her waist, as she pivoted to the right, keeping her knees together, bringing their bodies to meet. Her hands remained flush with the countertop, head tilting back, basking in the warm embrace.

‘What’s this? Cherry?’ he mused, tasting the remnants of either lip gloss or the lingering aftertaste from her drinks. ‘Absolutely delicious.’ Delighted and feeling the fledgling urges to continue, he deepened the kiss. The taste her lips provided intoxicated his senses, combined with the scent of her body. She smelled sweet, almost like candy. That devil with pink hair had worked her magic with terrifying accuracy. An allure to this sugary scented, pastel colored, innocent young lady was enough to muddle his senses.  
The internal struggle within the confines of his mind began to stir. 

He pulled back to let her catch her breath, watching her eyes closed and the steady pacing until she slowed to normal. He watched the vein in her neck throbbing with her heartbeat. That tender little neck…. His fingers trailed from the nape around to her clavicle, then lightly across her collarbone, causing her to flinch in ticklish response. Her skin so sensitive…

“I think your lips are quickly becoming one of my favorite features of yours.” He admitted, running his finger along the strap of her dress, finding it far lacier in texture. When it drew his attention visually, he noticed that it was in fact, a bra strap. A soft pink tone that matched the dress top. Which meant….the dress was a strapless one…

O fy duw

“Do you like it?” she asked, noticing him staring intently at her strap. “Monica told me that colored bras have hidden meanings, can you believe that?” she giggled at the thought.

“I do.” He answered, considering that it matched her perfectly. The color representing tenderness, affection, and….love. 

“You didn’t really say much about it, so I wasn’t sure.” She mumbled with her head lowered. He touched his forehead to the crown of hers and rested it there a moment. “I didn’t want to over-flatter you and give you cause to believe that I wasn’t being truthful. After all, you continually accuse me of lying when I have said I find you to be a beautiful woman.” He placed a gentle kiss upon her hair before lifting her chin to look up at him. “You can’t have it both ways. You either believe me, and accept the compliment, or you do not. But you cannot then complain I haven’t complimented you enough…”

“Oh but-“

“Ah ah, no interrupting.” He chided. “We are going to put an end to this matter once and for all. Or I will make you tell me two,” he held up two fingers, “Things that you love about yourself come Monday.”

Her eyes widen just a touch and her was about to protest, then shut her mouth with a pout. She crossed her arms over her chest in defiance.

“I don’t know what would ever make you think that you are unworthy of such compliments. Surely a doting father like yours showered you in praise over every achievement, no matter how miniscule. And I highly doubt your mother would look down on you with disdain, seeing as she bequeathed you several things that a young lady would love to have to emulate their role model. And given how ridiculous your brother’s nickname for you is, it is one of endearment. He cherishes you.”

He placed his hand on her crossed arms, gently pushing them down. “I never anticipated that in trying to ease you out of your shell, that I would begin to understand why everyone would want to keep you in it. Even a little part of me wants you to stay as you are, but you are not a porcelain doll to be only admired from afar.”

She apprehensively took hold of his hand as he spoke.

“I will continue to push you to grow. If I have to tell you every day that you are beautiful until you finally believe, then I will. Beauty is not just what is on the surface.”

“So says the most handsome man that I’ve ever seen.” Sam scoffed, then immediately froze in horror realizing she said that out loud. She let go of his hand to cover her mouth, as if it would somehow erase the last words spoken. 

“Oh now?” he teased with a tilt of his head. “Is that so?”

Honest to a fault. She wouldn’t say it if she didn’t truly believe in it herself. Therefore, it had to be true. Oh the things that came from her mouth…truly a surprise every time.

He took hold of her right knee and scooted her so she was facing him straight on. Her hands went straight to his chest as if to stop him. Then his hand started sliding down the length of her leg, cradling her calf, and easily slipped off her shoe. The action surprised her, but she didn’t resist so he continued with the second. Shoes in hand, he set them down neatly on the floor and rose slowly. He knew she was trying to figure out his next move and he loved misleading her with every movement he made.

‘What kind of chess opponent would she make? Offense or defensive? Straightforward or strategic? Would she start with a pawn or the knight?’ She had no poker face, that much was true. Not that she couldn’t still provide a challenge.

‘What is he thinking?’ her inner voice pondered as he set her shoes down. ‘He still has so many locks in place. I don’t think I’ve opened a single one while he probably knows everything about me from my personnel file.’

“I think this conversation is best suited in a more comfortable setting.” He stated, placing his hands on either side of her once more. “What do you say?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

Then she made a startled jump as his hands took hold of her hips and buttocks, pulling her closer to the edge of the counter, and him. “What are you-“

“I’m going to take you to the sofa. Come, hold on.” He ordered. Nervously she opened her knees and gave him better access to hold her. Her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands laced behind his neck. When he straightened up, she was nestled right against him, up higher than she would’ve been on her own feet. A tiny yelp escaped her, unused to the height difference. She was actually eye level with him!

“Oh my gosh! How tall are you?” she cried, squeezing onto him tightly.

He chuckled merrily. “Six, three.” He answered, carrying her to the living room. “Almost high enough to reach that 6’5 bar your father and brother have set for you.”

She gasped when he said that, even knowing that conversation had taken place weeks ago, at the clinic, just between her brother and herself. “How’d you know I said that?”

Expecting him to set her on the cushion, she was taken by surprise when he squatted low and set himself in the seat, with her still in his lap. “Yes Bunty, I overheard. Although your brother isn’t wrong about me. I do manipulate people. Very well actually.”

“Even me.” She added softly Almost hurt.

He closed his eyes and inhaled softly. “Yes, even you.” He confessed. Despite it being all par for the course in helping her overcome her insecurities, he had played on her inexperience with clients when meeting with Mr. Harris, he had tricked her into butting heads with him and standing up for herself, he had left her longing for him after their dinner date with tiny little gestures. But in that, he had pulled himself into his own web, tangled in the memories of her smile as he had lain in bed that night. Unable to stop thinking of her so fondly, unable to stop himself from being so concerned for her when she took the bus alone, unable to control his concern when his texts went unanswered for so long.

He had fallen irrevocably. Undeniably. 

But was it Love or Lust?

“Are you planning on keeping me like this?” She asked, breaking his spiral of thoughts, running a hand through his hair. Oh such soft hair…

“Are you objecting to this?” he countered, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. “Because I thoroughly enjoy the view from here.”

That smile caused her to knees to turn to jelly.

“So tell me more about this most handsome man you’ve ever seen…” he teased, watching her face flush and a little quiver take over her shoulders. Oh her facial expressions were a pleasure to behold.

“Go on now.” He ordered.

A little shiver rattled her spine with that firm tone of his. She couldn’t say just why it affected her so. And only until just recently too…

“I-I mean, what don’t you already know?”

He nearly snorted, holding back the laugh. “Another paradoxical question, I cannot answer what I do not know.”

She rolled her head and scoffed, seeing how well played that response was. She couldn’t believe he was turning their date night into another self-love exercise….Oh well, fine then. “He’s tall.” She started, glancing at him slyly. “He likes to use his height to intimate others. Even when he’s not the tallest man in the room, because he uses his eyes.” She took in a sighing breath. “Eyes that can freeze a body in its tracks. Pierce into the soul. Make you want to tell your secrets to.” Her voice took on a sultry tone. 

“His accent, oh his accent.” She sighed again with a blush. “When he speaks in his native tongue, it sends shivers up my spine.”

Charles felt himself grow hot under his collar, his body tensing with every breathy word of hers. This sudden sexy persona had taken over her, listening to her describe him in a way he had not anticipated.

“He has the amazing ability to move in silence,” she continued. “He’s snuck up on me so many times like an assassin. I’d be dead if he really was.” She let out a little laugh. “But then, he’s so gentle. When he leans in close,” She leaned towards him, almost close enough to touch. “Like this…..and then he says the most wonderful things to a silly girl with a crush.”

His mouth ran dry, glasses starting to fog with her breath. He had held onto her hand, pressed against his chest, surely giving away just how fervently his heart was beating underneath. He was held spellbound by her words, her mannerisms, and her boldness.

“Is-is that all?” he asked, catching his voice.

She cocked her head to the side, her dark eyes searching for more secrets within the ocean of his. “He keeps himself locked up, no one in. Hides a broken heart.” Her fingers flexed right over the location of his heart. “But it’s still there. I can feel it. I don’t know how to fix it though.”

“That’s enough.” He whispered, pleading.

“For someone who wanted answers, he suddenly doesn’t want to hear them.” She stated, reaching up with her other hand to remove his glasses. “I want to open the lock and find what’s hidden inside. I can only do that if I don’t stop digging. You said: beauty is not just what is on the surface.” she quoted with as close to a Welsh accent that she could muster, which sounded like an awful London cockney. He couldn’t hold that against her though, America wasn’t exactly teeming with Welsh influence. But hearing her do that still tickled. She had no idea how cute she was being.

“For a man looking like a marble statue brought to life, he sure picked a little plain….Bunty…like me.” He opened his mouth to protest that she was plain, when her finger silenced him, pressed against his lips. “You turn heads, without trying. I do not. Do you know I was in Monica’s hands for like, six hours?” she blurted. “From the moment I woke up to until you arrived. For this!” she motioned to herself, hand waving up and down to encompass everything from her hair to her dress. “For you.” She added softly, trailing that beautifully manicure finger along his lip, seemingly entranced by how he moved it along before giving it a little nibble.

‘Arglwydd helpwch fi’ he prayed, trying to remain calm as she unwittingly breached the fortified shore of his defenses. But he had to let her figure out what she wanted, what she was doing, on her own. No matter how he itched to take the reins, he was letting her step into the lead. Her delicate touch was both comforting and torturous. Especially as she trailed her finger up and traced the shape of his ear, sending electricity through his veins. A little flick at his earlobe and he had to suppress a shudder. Her other hand traced the shape of his larynx, feeling it shift when he swallowed.

His hands were digging into the fabric of her couch cushions as she killed him with the death of a thousand tiny touches, shifting her sitting position ever so slightly to get comfortable, unaware it was stirring his desires. She brought both her hands up to meet at his collar, gripping it firmly like he had the day he had given her the shirt off his back, pulling him just a hair’s breadth away from her lips before letting go, having him fall back against the couch. He was just a little shocked at her subtle tease, but enough that she was able to unbutton the top button before he could stop her.

“Uh Bunty, best to leave that on.” He cautioned politely, hands reaching for hers, but then were suddenly snatched and pressed against the couch. Her hands were tiny by comparison, her strength not even half of his, but he let her pin him in place. “You do realize I could easily overtake you without breaking a sweat?”

“You always get away with it.” She declared; their lips ridiculously close to each other’s. “You do this when you want to get your way.”

“It tends to work, yes.” He agreed.

“Then I get a turn.” 

His eyebrow arched as he smirked, knowing that she had sobered up considerably and was only on the margin of being buzzed. But she still wanted to venture further-and his curiosity had been piqued. He wanted to see how far she was going to take this before it crossed the line. Not like there wouldn’t be another night like this to come, but control was still not something easily let go off.

But what was the worst she could do?

“Very well Miss Young, you’re the boss.” He replied with a sly smile.

He was not prepared for the look he in return received, or the next words out of her mouth.

“Unbutton your shirt.” She ordered; softly, directly. That middle grown between asking and demanding.

Goosebumps tickled the flesh of his arms and hairs on his neck. A swell of heat washed through his body like a fresh morning shower. For a moment his heart forgot to beat, but blood rushed directly to another part of his anatomy. She let go of his hands so he could do the task she ordered, and he let them fall slowly to rest at his sides, the slightest tremble in them before he steeled his nerve and began to unbutton his shirt.

Halfway through he broke eye contact with her and glanced down to watch his hands, for once feeling the weight of her gaze. He couldn’t believe he had broken away first, that he actually felt….nervous? no it couldn’t be. He’d been playing this game far longer and knew the rules, the roles, the balance of power. He knew how to tease, how to please, how to make ‘em weak in the knees. But Samara? Just what did she have up her sleeve?

With the shirt unbuttoned and opened, his chest was bared for her viewing pleasure. With shy hands, she tentatively reached out and placed then on his pecks. Her fingers flexed cat-like, just getting a feel for his soft yet quite firm flesh. He leaned his head back against her couch, closed his eyes and let her examine him at her leisure. He believed that if she caught him watching her, she’d lose her nerve and close up, and honestly, he really wanted to know what she was capable of. Fingers danced along his abs softly, he kept as still as he could to resist jerking when it tickled, especially as she reached his belly button. She drew little circles around it, watching his muscles twitch. 

Then her fingers trailed back up, the distance between them growing as each hand had its own path, a met their destination upon each nipple. He jolted just so, but not enough to deter her. She’d never touched a nipple other than her own, and seeing how his were smaller than hers piqued her curiosity. One well-manicured nail ran across the circle of bumpy flesh, causing him to hiss and jerk.

“Did it hurt?” she asked immediately, pulling her hand back.

“Not at all.” He answered, taking her hand and placing it back where it had been. “They’re sensitive too, although not nearly as much fun to play with.” Oh that grin of his, he could turn every sentence into a sexual innuendo.

He expected her to blush when he said that, but she turned serious. “I scratched you the other day, and you didn’t complain….So,….I’m curious….” She mused, placing her nails into his skin lightly, “Does this…?” And with a breath, she had pulled them down in five rows, leaving a pink trail in their wake, listening to him let out a cry that didn’t sound at all in pain.

“Samara!” he shouted, startled by that turn of events, grabbing her hand. His eyes locked with hers. He was panting, slightly trembling, filled with desire and the angst of holding back. “What are you playing at?”

She tilted her head to the side. “You said we had take it slow…but was that only applying to me and what you want to do?”

“Yes!” he yelped out, not expecting her to become so hands on. Though given how she was testing boundaries yesterday, he should’ve been prepared for something like this. Realizing he blurted out that one-word response, he settled down and softened his voice. “I meant that yes, I’m going to take my time with this for you. I just wasn’t expecting you to want to….ahhhh”

He lost his train of thought when she had sneakily run her other hand across the bulge that was undeniable in his pants. He swore colorfully in Welsh, things he’d never say in front of a lady in English and quickly grabbed her hand. And all she did was just giggle. Not drunk giggle, that had come to pass, but being sober didn’t mean one’s urges hadn’t cooled.

“I don’t think you can handle ‘taking it slow’. I know what that means Charles.”

“I’m sure you do, I don’t doubt your knowledge in human anatomy-but my God Samara-a little restraint, please.” He begged as he held each wrist firmly and pressed them together to make the “prayer” pose. “Here I am trying to be the well behaved one and the virgin is trying to seduce me…” he trailed off with a tiny laugh.

“Oh.” She said, dejected. “Just another thing for me to fail at.”

“Not at all my dear. You succeeded in getting the reaction you wanted. That part doesn’t move without the proper motivation. And I’m fully motivated. Very much so.” 

He lowered his neck but tilted his chin up to meet her downcast eyes. “There is a time and place for a lady’s first time. It deserves to be treated with care, because it is something that only happens once. And it should be a wonderful memory for you to look back on. On our first date? On your living room couch? Like this, even though we have only been together a week?” he released one hand from her wrists but held both of hers within the grip on just one. His free hand came up and caressed her cheek. “Not very men have the strength to say ‘No’ to a beautiful woman who is willing, but I’d like for us to have just some time to still learn about each other first.”

“I thought that’s what we were doing.” She sighed, looking like she might start to cry.

He nodded. “Of course we were, and I let you take the helm because I was curious to see what you’d do. No manipulations, just you of your own freewill, becoming comfortable with my body. But if you continue with that, then we’ll end up crossing a line.” His thumb traced her lips. “I really, truly and sincerely want you, but only when you are 100% certain you are ready.”

She bit his thumb.

“Ouh!” he pulled back and shook the digit. “You little minx.”

“I am ready Charles.”

He shook his head. “No my dear, you are not. It only feels like it because the urges have only been awakened. You took it almost too far yesterday and I did what I knew that would satisfy you before I gave in and took your precious gift like some barbarian.”

“This is so frustrating.” She responded in a sad tone. “I know what I want to do. I have who I want to do it with….and yet…”

“Oh indeed it is frustrating. I’m not kidding when I say I am using a lot of willpower right now. If you believe me to be a gentleman, a princely character despite my reputation, then you’ll allow me to take my time.” 

He pulled her bound wrists up to his chest and wrapped his other arm around her. She inhaled his scent, eyes rolling into the back of her skull under closed lids. Oh lord does he bath in Unicorn Tears? He smells so damn good.

“Let me do one thing right.” He whispered in a plea, holding her with a tense but still gentle embrace. If there is going to be one thing I won’t be going to Hell for, let it be that I don’t ruin her.

“How can I say no when you sound like that?” she asked herself, out loud. She turned her head up and caught a glimpse of a rare emotion of his face. Whether it was in apprehension of her rejecting the request, or his internal thoughts thinking of something far more foreboding, she saw FEAR.

She immediately sat up and pulled her wrists free from his locked grip. She took his head in her hands and pulled him to meet in a kiss. Whatever pain his ex-wife had caused him still ran so deep all these years later. She was beginning to see that ‘damaged’ man he spoke of, the one that had been incapable of loving for far longer than she could’ve guessed. Here he was wanting to try to get it right this time. He had asked her to accept who he was as is, and in return she would get that which had craved. She would receive his affections, his teaching, and even possibly his heart.

That was it. That’s what was locked in the chest. She didn’t need a little physical key-SHE was the key-but it was the lock that needed time before it could try to be pried open.

The realization of that epiphany reeled through her. She was seeing it so clearly now that had she not been sitting in his lap she would’ve hit the floor. 

She placed her right hand over his heart, feeling the muscle beat with a steady thump. She slowed her breath and closed her eyes, letting his heartbeat resound in her ears until it was pumping through her. His broken heart that she thought she didn’t know how to fix? She figured out how.

“I will wait as long as it takes, as long as it’s all of you that I get, not just a little bit. No secrets, no lies, and no more ghosts from the past.”

Her declaration struck a chord within him that felt like being set on fire and doused in an ice bath at once. His heart tripped over its feet and face planted, knocking the air out of his lungs. His eyes had never felt so large, as if they’d swallow the rest of his features. He swallowed and pushed a knot that had developed in his throat, mouth dry as sand.  
All he could do was placed his hand right over hers and hold it there for an unknown amount of time. They sat in silence, their heartbeats communicating in rhythm, their chests moving in unison with their breaths. It was as if time had stopped.

…………….

When Charles finally left her apartment, he felt changed somehow. He couldn’t say in exact words, but it felt like the mixture of all the best feelings the human language had. Indiscriminate to each other, they swirled like flirty clouds around in his chest, weaving in between his ribs and around his heart and through his veins. He’d felt something akin to this decades ago, back when everything was brand knew, but even then, it was still different. 

This was different.

And it was better.

…………

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *arglwydd helpwch fi - lord help me

**Author's Note:**

> *annwyl - darling  
> *cariad - love  
> *Tywysoges - Princess  
> *fy un hardd - my beautiful one
> 
> Chapter 6 had to be broken up because it was getting so long. So you get Pre-date Jitters and then the Double date.


End file.
